


Blessed

by itendswithz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itendswithz/pseuds/itendswithz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles finds an unconscious body with little swan-like wings in the preserve, it throws him and Derek into a whirlwind of an adventure. And it's all Scott's fault for bailing that fateful morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Come on Derek. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Derek. Derek. DerekDerekDerek-"

"Yes, Little Red," a smooth, deep voice answers – Derek's bedroom voice. The one that promises multiple orgasms and the desire to quit his mediocre office job and become a kept boy. Stiles could do it. He's researched this. Thoroughly.

And damn if Stiles doesn’t want phone sex right now. He has yet to encounter any kind of sex with Derek that didn't end with him blissed out and proud of his life choices. Phone sex, bed sex, car sex, shower sex, wall sex, five-year anniversary sex, sex at Jackson's new place just because it'll piss the werelizard off - all of it is amazing. Stupid supernatural shit cockblocking him. Again.

Stiles sighs. "As much as I want to jack off to my boyfriend's voice, I really need to talk to my alpha.”

Stiles can feel Derek’s eyebrows angrily slam together as he says, “Where are you. What is it.”

Stiles sighs again. “I’m in the preserve, about a mile and in a half away from that lake Erica likes. But there’s no real rush. He’s unconscious an-” 

“HIM! What have you done. Stiles, get away from whatever trouble you’ve attracted.” The ‘this time’ clearly waiting to be spoken. Derek ends the conversation with a click and Stiles knows those eyebrows somehow got closer together in their five minute conversation.

This is his life now: a boyfriend physically incapable of asking questions and a best friend who begs you to help train their tracking abilities only to ditch at the last moment. Stiles wants to sigh again but he knows it’s fruitless; Derek is probably already wolfed out and running here from the renovated Hale House. Instead, Stiles looks down at the… being he’s found. 

He’s built, almost as big as the wolves, muscles flowing freely since this guy takes after Derek and thinks shirts are optional. Stiles has no idea why but he thinks the dude would be smiling if he was conscious. He’s about 5’ 10” and his blond Caesar haircut is covered in blood. Head injury then. The more Stiles looks at him, the more he thinks this could be Isaac’s long-lost twin brother, only with an added bonus. He has two dainty, white wings barely poking out from his shoulder blades. They look like swan wings and Stiles wants to touch them, to check if they’re soft like goose-down. But he knows that touching an unknown being is asking for trouble. He’s learned that lesson and has no desire to relearn it.

He walks away from Adonis to investigate the bundle lying just outside the man’s clenched fist. Whatever it is must have been important if he’s still trying to hold on to it. Using a nearby stick, Stiles pokes at the leather satchel until it unlatches and stares open-mouthed as a cornucopia of golden and metallic arrows tumble out. He feels an instant attraction to the golden ones and desperately wants to horde them. Maybe share them with Derek and the pack. Without meaning to, Stiles finds his hand reaching towards an arrow but when he looks at the dull silver ones again his hands tighten and a chill runs down his spine. 

Those arrows are dangerous and Stiles knows bad things will happen if he comes in contact with them. After seven years in this life, not much can scare Stiles - too many creatures, too many memories, too much death has jaded him. But those arrows have awoken a fear that Stiles thought he had long overcome.

It takes a shaky exhale and Derek’s howl to break Stiles out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Derek, in his Beta form, and Erica, wolfed out, running towards him. Without prompt, Stiles throws himself into Derek’s solid body, taking comfort in the wall of warm muscles. He knows his heart must be pounding and he knows the wolves have picked up on his fear, but right now he doesn’t care. He needs something to soothe this crippling terror. 

“Don’t touch the arrows. Whatever you do, don’t touch the arrows,” Stiles whimpers into Derek’s chest.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, Stiles. We won’t. Erica, check his pulse.” Derek responds with a reassuring voice as his hand gently rubs Stiles’ back.

Erica is uncharacteristically serious as she answers. “It’s steady and his breathing seems good. Stiles… Stiles what happened? Are you ok?”

Stiles gives a soft laugh but responds that he’s fine, just scared. Derek doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press for more. He knows that Stiles doesn’t like to make the pack unhappy and will stretch the truth to placate them. “Grab the body. We’ll head to Deaton’s to figure out what to do with him. Be alert. He could wake up any moment,” Derek commands as he takes over the situation. Like always.

“Stiles, we need to take the arrows with us-” Derek starts to say before Stiles interrupts.

“I know. We can’t leave them, it’s too dangerous. I don’t know what they do. Don’t want to know. Okay I do. But not firsthand.” Stiles knows he is rambling, but that’s good. The more he rambles the calmer he gets. “We’ll just use a stick or something to push them back into the bag. I wonder if they’re solid gold or a gold mixture. And the other ones aren’t silver. Maybe nickel. Erica, you head to Deaton’s and have him set up a protective circle. Okay? Okay.”

Erica smirks before hoisting the man onto her shoulder, his arms swaying wildly as she readjusts his weight. She runs towards the veterinary clinic as the man’s feet drag on the forest floor, creating a clear path to follow. Stiles looks at Derek and just wants to kiss him. A quick press of lips together but they agreed years ago not to let their relationship get in the way of their supernatural duty. Sometimes having a werewolf boyfriend sucks.

Derek has a little twist to his lips, probably because he could smell Stiles’ tiny burst of arousal. “The arrows,” he says with a tilt of his head. And of course the alpha isn’t going to do the bitch work of getting them back into the carrier. Seriously. Werewolf boyfriends suck.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Stiles snarks back. Just causes he’s doing the work doesn’t mean he’s going to be quiet about it. He has most of the arrows safely tucked away now.

“Stiles, you know I don’t wear underwear.” Derek says grabbing the handle and shaking the arrows deeper into the bag. He turns as Stiles’ eyes bug out and begins sauntering after Erica.

Stiles squawks before yelling after the fleeting form. “Derek! You can’t just say things like that! At least not without offering a handjob. Derek!” But the alpha just keeps walking away. Stiles sighs, (again!), and chases after his boyfriend.

He wishes this month’s supernatural entanglement won’t end in a near-death situation. It’s good to have hope, even if it’s probably in vain.


	2. Stephanie Stiletto

It takes Derek and Stiles about two hours to reach the clinic. Stiles is in shape, but he’s no werewolf and the clinic is on the other side of town. Besides, the two of them spend that time talking and calming any residential fear Stiles might be feeling. Talking has always been Stiles’ way of coping, something Derek understands, so it comes as no surprise when he complains about working at Beacon Hills’ only tax office. 

Stiles is good with numbers, he’s no Lydia Martin, but he discovered a knack for tax preparation in college. He figures it’s probably the only career where his ADHD actually helps – letting him juggle numbers in his head and find exemptions and deductions other people might overlook. But since tax season isn’t until another six months, he spends most days filing and avoiding his dragon lady of a boss.

After a while, Derek begins informing Stiles of his progress with his latest addition to the “Stephanie Stiletto Series,” the story of a plucky teenage girl whose best friend gets bitten by a werewolf their sophomore year of high school and she just happens to fall in love with the debonair werewolf Derik. It’s terribly familiar and Stiles would be pissed if a) it wasn’t his idea and b) if “Stephanie” wasn’t critically acclaimed and a total badass. Seriously. There are academic essays about how she’s a “refreshingly honest portrayal of a strong, female character that doesn’t lose her humanity in spite of the harsh world she’s thrust into.” He may or may not have famed a couple of those reviews. And those frames may or may not be hanging up in their bedroom.

When the Hale insurance fund had begun running “low” a.k.a under $300,000, Derek had begun freaking out in his Derek way. (“I have to think of the whole pack’s future! What if Boyd and Erica have kids? Isaac needs someone to pay for his college education. Danny might need bail money someday.”) Fed up with the wolf’s craziness, Stiles had joked, _joked_ , that Derek should just sell his life story. Six months later, Ace Books had another best-selling series.

The books are mainly biographies of Stiles’ and Derek’s life, just sold as fiction and slightly genderbented. The one Derek is finishing has Stephanie going into her junior year of college and her police captain dad is about to be murdered by a petty thief caught in the act of lifting a $250 television. Stiles barely remembers that year, he just knows that he showed up outside Derek’s house with an arm full of his dad’s stuff asking for a place to stay. Lydia, bless her soul, sold the Stilinski property to the city and had it turned into a playground so Stiles wouldn’t have to see someone else living there.

The whole time they’re taking, their hands brush against each other until Stiles nuts up and grabs his boyfriend’s hand and interlocks their fingers. Yeah, yeah. Don’t mix relationship with duty. Fuck that noise. Stiles is going to hold Derek’s hand whenever he wants – he’s a strong, female character. Derek doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps their fingers laced together until the clinic where he moves his hand to the small of Stiles’s back. 

Erica greets them with her patented smirk before speaking. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Oh, so you can count,” Stiles quips quickly.

“A dumb blonde joke? You’re better than that,” is the only response Erica gives before continuing as if she wasn’t interrupted. “Deaton cleared us a room. Put up wards that’ll prevent any harm from coming to us. He said he thinks the guy’s a cupid and not to touch the arrows.”

At that Derek steps away from Stiles, as if to put some distance between the human and the satchel. Erica ignores the movement and breezes through the rest of the gathered info. “He’s still unconscious so we’ll have to wait for him to wake up to know exactly what happened. Deaton’s going to close early, so we’ll have some privacy – but he wants to be in the room. Apparently the good doctor has some questions he’d like answered. Wouldn’t tell me what those questions were though.”

“So Deaton is being Deaton. Makes sense. Follows a pattern. Did he tell you what the arrows do?” Stiles asks.

“That is a good question, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton’s clear voice answers as he walks into the room. “Traditionally, cupids carry two types of arrows. The arrows are either forged from gold and their blood or lead and their tears. Since cupids are magical in nature, these combinations give their arrows the power needed to affect humans. The golden arrows make you fall in love, the lead ones make you fall in loathe. Additionally, there’s no record of the arrows affecting other supernatural beings – only humans.”

“So, since Lydia is immune to magic…that makes Stiles the only pack member in danger?” Erica asks when it becomes clear that Deaton is done talking. At this, Derek takes another step away from Stiles.

“Awesome. Sounds like a regular Tuesday to me,” Stiles says. “Wait doesn’t that mean Allison could be in danger too?”

“She isn’t pack,” Derek nearly snarls.

“Ugh. Not this again,” Stiles says more to himself than the room. He looks at Derek before continuing. “I know you’re going to be all alpha about this, but she and Scott have a thing. When they’re in the “on”,” Stiles uses the air quotes. His werewolf needs all the help he can get. “Phase of their relationship, she’s welcomed in our house. Scott is never leaving the pack, but we shouldn’t make him unhappy because of whom he chooses to love.” Derek merely grunts his agreement. Or maybe it’s his _Not Now Stiles_ grunt. The dude has too many for Stiles to memorizes each completely. It was hard enough learning his eyebrow language.

“Regardless,” Deaton begins. “There is no known cure that doesn’t end in death, either by the human shot with the arrow or their fixated person’s death. It seems like someone has to die to negate the magic. But to perfectly honest, no one has recorded how this particular curse works, so they could be an herb or ritual that’ll reverse the effects. At this time, we don’t know.”

“Great! As long as Derek keeps the arrows to himself, everyone should be okay,” Stiles says as he smiles. Things are looking up. “Let’s see if loverboy is ready to share his life story!”

“Yes. Let’s,” Deaton intones, face completely blank as he leads the group into examine room two. 

Erica follows, then Derek who uses his body as a barrier between Stiles and the arrow-filled bag. The cupid is laying face-up on the shiny table, chest raising and falling in little breathes, but it’s clear that he still hasn’t awakened. Deaton has cleaned the blood away and put a dressing with gauze around his head. There doesn’t seem to any other bandage, meaning that head wound is the only injury he has. It looks like Erica or Deaton wiped his blue jeans clean, but when Stiles takes a step forward, Derek puts a halting hand on his shoulder.

There’s a pregnant pause as the group waits for something, anything, to happen. If this was one of Stephanie’s adventures, the creature would snap awake and attack. But no, this is Stiles’ life and he’s probably going to have wait at least another hour before the excitement can begin. Is it possible to be jealous of a fictional version of yourself? 

After a couple more seconds, Deaton sighs quietly. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as it takes for him to wake. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Miss McClory’s labradoodle,” he says with a little bow of his head and walks out of the room.

Erica leaves, only to return moments later with a chair from the waiting room. “What? I’m in heels. I’m not standing any longer for this asshole,” she huffs when Derek gives her a look.

Stiles slips outs of Derek’s hold and takes another step. His insatiable need to know, to learn, pushing him forward despite Derek’s warning growl. “Relax, Sourwolf. He’s knocked out. If something happens you can just manhandle me out of the way,” Stiles says.

He takes another tentative step, which leaves him at the cupid’s waist. Stiles knows, _he knows_ , touching unconscious things is dangerous. He has the scars to remind himself of that. And yet. He really, really wants to poke this guy. Just in the perfectly sculpted abs. He pokes Derek’s abs all the time and hasn't died. Before he can convince himself that this is a horrible, horrible mistake, Stiles places his hand just above the cupid’s bellybutton. 

Instantly, Stiles feels a jolt burn through his body. It starts in his hand and spread up his arm, across his chest, down to his legs before reversing the trip and sizzling at the ends of his fingertips on the body. Then, without warning, the cupid gasps awake, springs up, launches a hand to grip Stiles’ shoulder and in an eerily high voice squeals, “You’re in love!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guessed it! It's a cupid.
> 
> Ace Books is an actually publishing company. They're the ones who publish the Sookie Stackhouse/Southern Vampire (True Blood) series. 
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated.


	3. Danced. Sang. Bright light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this so late but I went to wing night and spent $3 on a glass of Coke.

When you face life or death situations on a regular basis, your reflex skills become impeccable. Stiles once dodged a knife thrown at his head, tumbled and chucked a rotten pumpkin at a hunter all in the same motion. 

He has skills. Mad skillz. But nothing, nothing could have prepared him for that voice. The paralysis he felt makes kanima poisoning seem like apple juice. He is completely dumbfounded that a man of this size and shape could produce such a voice. For a brief, very brief, moment Stiles was reminded of the original, undubbed _Sailor Moon_ episodes he download before all this supernatural crap became a fixture in his life. He misses lazy Saturday mornings.

And that’s the excuse Stiles is going with if anyone asks why he needed Derek to shove him out of the cupid’s grasp. Derek, using his werewolf speed and strength, slaps the hand off Stiles’ shoulder and slides between the two men, pushing Stiles away from him and the now discarded arrows – snarling the whole time. At the same time, Erica has jumped towards them, elongated fangs and claws out. 

Everyone is staring at the cupid and it’s silent except for Derek’s non-stop growling. The cupid’s mud brown eyes are wide and Stiles is certain he’s about to fight them. Instead, he speaks in that weird school-girl anime voice, “OH MY GOD! You’re in love too. So are you! Everyone in this room is in love! How exciting.”

He somehow slips away from Derek only to hug Erica. “I’m so glad you found love! And with an alpha too! This is the best. I must-”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold up!” Stiles interrupts. “Erica’s not with Derek. I am. Nobody but me gets to touch this wolfy ass!” Stiles grabs a nice firm chunk of the delicious tissue mentioned. “And who the fuck are you?!” 

Derek merely growls at the squeeze, but it’s a playful growl so they’re ok. Erica looks like she wants to laugh while bashing the cupid’s head in. She’s crazy like that. The cupid, for his part, just looks confused and drops his arms to his side. “I’m Karl. But you can’t have found love with him. He’s a werewolf and you’re a human.”

Derek’s growl returns, louder than before. Stiles can hear the animals staying in the kennel a room over whimpering. The room is quieter than any room Stiles has ever been in. Karl has just pointed out the white elephant that follows Stiles and Derek. How can a werewolf love a human? For a fleeting moment, Stiles thinks this will be the case that eventually breaks them. How can it not? Someone just pointed out their biggest obstacle without malice.

Derek opens his mouth and simply says, “I love Stiles. That’s it. Why are you here.” Eyes flashing red as he finishes.

Karl tilts his head, like a confused puppy and it’s so similar to Scott that Stiles finds himself wanting to hug the dude. Maybe scratch his head and call him an oaf. This is the untold danger of being Scott’s best friend. It makes you want to cuddle potentially homicidal, not to mention rude, people. “It’s true. True love!” Karl squeals. It’s so seventh grade that everyone gets this perplexed look.

Karl skips towards Derek, his little wings fluttering as if to hold up his body before he lands. It’s so serene, Stiles not-so-discreetly checks to see if he in fact touches down. He is. “You’re a werewolf, yet you’ve given your heart to a human. You two must have overcome great obstacles. You deserve a gift.”

At this, the cupid cups Derek’s hands and begins singing and dancing wildly. Derek, stiff as a board and frozen due to shock, let’s the man flail his hands like a bad impression of an octopus. Stiles can’t contain the laughter erupting from deep within his chest. This is funnier than the time Isaac threw Jackson into a pile of deer crap. He looks over to see how Erica is fairing and sees her recording it. Stiles feels a swell of pride for her. The woman is a goddess. He’ll have to get a copy before Derek goes all alpha on her.

Suddenly there’s a bright, deep purple light emitting from where his boyfriend and the supernatural creature are dancing together. Stiles’ laughter ends abruptly, this is no longer hilarious. It’s just wandered into the realm of hazardous. The light becomes so bright Stiles wants to close his eyes or at least raise a hand to block it like Erica is doing. But he only turns his head slightly. He _has_ to see what’s happening. There’s a loud giggle and then the room whites out.

When Stiles opens his eyes, he has to blink a couple times before he can see properly. There’s a faint trace of mashed green peas delicately tingling his nose. Erica is crouching near the exam table. Thankfully, Derek is still standing where he was before the violent violet light. However, after a quick scan of the room, Stiles notices that Karl and his bag of arrows are gone. 

“Derek. Are you ok? Derek?” Stiles rushes forward, grabbing his Sourwolf’s bicep. “Derek! Talk to me.”

“Stiles, what have I told you about touching things! Next time just let me do it.” Derek berates but his voice is devoid of any angry; his voice is filled with an air of gratefulness that they’ve all lived through whatever the fuck just happened. Erica shambles over and lightly curls a hand around Derek’s other elbow. They stay like that until Deaton comes back into the room.

He looks around before speaking, “What happened? First, my animals are cowering in their crates,” he casts the trio a dirty look saying he knows exactly who is to blame. “Then I’m unable to open the door. Only to have a purple light nearly blind me. And now I see that the cupid is gone.” He looks disappointed and Stiles feels a pang of loss for his father.

Sensing Stiles’ remorse, Derek grabs his hand before answering. “Karl, the cupid, woke up, said Stiles and I have true love. Grabbed my hands. Danced. Sang. Bright light. Then he and the arrows were gone.”

Deaton’s eyes shrink back into his skull and he mumbles just quiet enough that Stiles is unable to hear. But judging by Derek’s tensing shoulder, it’s loud enough for the wolves to understand. “What do you mean ‘blessing’?” The alpha growls.

Deaton looks… ashamed? Guilty? Stiles can’t quite pin the emotion on his usually stoic face. This can’t be good. “It’s not, Mr. Stilinski. The cupid has given Derek a blessing.”

“A blessing? Isn’t that a good thing?” Stiles asks.

“It can be, but you and I both know that magic of any kind can be dangerous. My wards should have stopped this, but it seems they only impede magic that’s intended to harm. I’ll have to revise them. You two should remain vigilant until we can discover exactly what this blessing will entail. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll like to close up, go home and see if any of my contacts have suggestions on this manner.” Deaton waves his hand to the exit as if the pack needs to be shown out.

Derek rumbles and tugs his beta and his boyfriend out the clinic. “Erica, inform the pack about what happened. Make sure Isaac and Boyd stay in Montana. Isaac has his thesis to finish. Tell Lydia it’s her choice if she and Jackson come home. She knows if she can finish her research here or not.” Derek dismisses her and she calls someone before walking to into the forest – presumably to her apartment.

“Stiles, you and I are going home and going to bed.” Derek wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist and leads the young man towards the Hale House.

Stiles is quiet for all of three seconds. “Are you sure that’s safe? What if this blessing is that it makes you sleep for years. What if I have to kiss you awake like a goddamn fairy tale! We should at least have a pack member watch over you. And-” 

“I will have my Pack watching me,” Derek disrupts Stiles’ soon to be rambling. He must be tired. He only does that when he’s tired or worried or has something important to say. And sometimes when he just wants Stiles to be quiet.

“Who?” Stiles questions as his eyes become silts. The only other pack members in town are Scott and Danny.

“You,” Derek smirks as Stiles sputters, enjoying his revenge for the public groping.

“Me! Are you serious! I don’t have super hearing. Or super strength. I can’t carry you if something happens. That’s it. I’m calling Scott and Danny. They’ll crash in the pack room. I should probably get Erica to come too. Don’t want to make her feel left out.”

“No Stiles. We are going home, you are showering. And we are going to sleep.” Derek uses his alpha voice – like that means jack shit to Stiles.

Stiles ignores him in favor of pulling out his phone to call Danny. Derek plucks the phone and stuffs into his pants – as if Stiles has never gone dumpster diving in those jeans. “And here I was hoping the blessing would be you being obedient.” Derek’s embellished sigh is the icing on the pissed off cake he’s baking.

Stiles huffs. “Like that’ll ever happen. Fine. We’ll go home to out mansion. Alone. Just don’t be mad when I tell you so.”

“I never am,” Derek says warmly. He tosses Stiles over his shoulder fireman style and runs a large paw over his butt. _Now hold on_ is the only warning before he’s speeding werewolf fast home. 

Stiles does the only reasonable thing and hoots out loud before grabbing that wonderful ass again.


	4. Stiles’ Other Kryptonite

It takes Stiles a week to seduce Derek. That’s an improvement considering the first time it nearly took a year and a half. The Sunday night when Scott Bails/Cupid Attacks, as Stiles has begun calling it, Stiles and Derek go home, shower separately, brush their teeth and sleep. Derek tried sleeping on his back with his arms at his side but Stiles just burrowed into his side, swung a leg over his werewolf’s left knee and laid his head on Derek’s clavicle.

For Stiles, Monday morning was uneventful. That should have been his first clue, but when you live with someone like Derek, you have to pick up on changes in his pattern instead of having heart-to-heart chats. Derek may be grumpy but he’s a big o’ teddy bear. An emotional stunted teddy bear capable of ripping your throat out with his teeth, but a teddy bear nonetheless. So when Derek stays in bed, Stiles should realize that it’s not because he’s tired, but because he’s worried about the Blessing. But mornings are Stiles’ kryptonite and if he had been thinking he would have called out instead of rushing out of the house.

It isn’t until Stiles gets home that night that he realizes something’s up. Derek, in all his wisdom, has decided that the only way to stop the Blessing from harming Stiles is to keep relationship interactions to a bare minimum. “At least until Deaton can figure something out,” Derek says, eyes full of concern and just enough softness that they could be considered puppy eyes. Stiles’ other kryptonite. They eat dinner in separate rooms, and Derek sleeps on the couch. It’s the worst night sleep Stiles has had in _years_.

Tuesday follows in the same vein. Breakfast alone, a wave goodbye as he leaves for work, no filthy text during the day, and no kiss hello when he gets home. Stiles is so done with this. He waits until Derek goes to sleep on the couch again before making his move. After lying in bed alone for three hours, Stiles gathers a blanket and creeps downstairs – intending to just cuddle up with Derek. Instead, he finds the worry wart also awake. Stiles just climbs into the space between Derek’s legs and they sleep chest to chest.

Wednesday is better because Derek admits that maybe they can hug. Stiles takes the day off and he just enjoys being in the same room with his werewolf boyfriend. They take a walk in the woods enjoying the crisp air and the smell of pine and it’s so reminiscent of their early days that Stiles thinks this must be the Blessing. A reconnecting that neither of them knew was needed. 

Derek is still hesitant to do anything more physical than holding each other, much to Stiles’ disappointment. But that night Stiles spoons Derek as best as he can – the alpha’s muscles hinder Stiles’ reach – and murmurs about Derek’s strength, his leadership, how he provides for Stiles and how he protects the pack until they fall asleep wrapped around each other.

So when Stiles wakes up Thursday morning he hugs Derek before going to work. There he files everything twice as fast and begins to formulate a plan. Tonight, he’s getting laid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update! I have a midterm coming up, but I promise the next chapter will be all sexytimes.


	5. Filling But Lacking Diversity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but the next chapter will be up tomorrow!

The first step is to fail. Stiles knows that Derek knows that Stiles is done with the lack of make-outs. And since Derek is not a potato, he knows that Stiles is going to have a plan. Stiles has to let Derek thwart a plan, else he’ll be suspicious. It’s going to take every tip and trick Lydia has taught him about strategy to get this to happen tonight. He’s not going to push or force Derek, there will be plenty of chances for the alpha to escape. Stiles just wants to remind him of what he could be having.

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles sings as he enters the living room, eyes sweeping towards the kitchen. The house was remodeled to have the living room and kitchen-dining room combo into one giant area broken apart by wooden floors turning into tiles and an enormous black, leather couch acting as a make-shift barrier. Derek isn’t in the kitchen and the dining room table is empty. Must be in his den. _Hehe,_ Stiles chuckles at his pun. 

Cutting through the living room to the door on the far right, Stiles knocks before opening and finds Derek, shoulders hunched, leaning towards his desktop. The sound of clicking keys fills the air and Stiles is momentarily reminded of when the harpies attacked. “I’m gonna start dinner. Steak sound good?” Stiles asks.

Derek makes eye contact for a second and grunts before his fingers return typing at werewolf pace. Stiles realizes that he must be in one of his writing moods. This is perfect. He’ll be mentally exhausted and more willing to spot the first attempt at seduction and believe it’s the only one. 

Stiles leaves him to his work and begins cooking the meat. He keeps Derek’s whole and rare while chopping his into strips. Stiles also boils some green beans and carrots. He doesn’t really feel like cooking a lot, so tonight’s dinner will be filling but lacking diversity. Setting the table, Stiles hums to himself and thinks about what he has to do tomorrow. It’s still the slow season at work, so he’s not scheduled to come in. He’ll call Isaac to see how his paper is coming along. 

“Der Der! Dinner is ready,” Stiles calls. He sits down and waits for his wolf to come in. Derek enters, sits down and begins eating. Yep, he’s drained. Stiles stretches and begins to play footsies. 

“Stiles. We can’t,” Derek nearly moans as he pulls away.

“Seriously Derek! I miss you. I miss kissing you. I miss holding you in my arms. I miss the taste of your skin. I miss-,”

“And I don’t!” Derek yells, eye flashing red, claws scraping the table. “You think I like not hearing your breathy little moans. You think I like not feeling you squirm. I spent the whole day thinking about your eyes.” Derek slams a hand down and it cracks his plate in two. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know what that fucker did to me! I could kill you.”

The room goes quiet and Stiles realizes that his plan was seriously fucked up. He can’t believe that he didn’t factor how Derek was feeling. “Derek. Derek, you could kill me.” Stiles heart stutters when he sees Derek’s face fall and rushes the next part before the wolf can run away. “But you won’t! After everything we’ve done, I know you won’t hurt me. I don’t think Karl would want that either.”

Derek snarls at the cupid’s name but he exhales deeply and Stiles sees his claws retract. “We can’t keep waiting for Deaton and if you’re worried about hurting me, there’s something we could do.” Stiles is just thinking on the fly here, but that’s one of his strong suits. Derek looks at him through his eyelashes and Stiles knows he’s listening.

“If we can’t touch each other past morning hugs, then maybe we can encourage each other. I could talk to you and I know seeing you is enough for me.”

“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about.” Derek sounds frustrated.

“I’m taking about mutual masturbation!” Stiles nearly screams. What is his life! “It’ll be like phone sex, except we’d be in the same room. And it’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. That’s all I got Derek. We jerk off in front of each other. Fucking supernatural shit!” Stiles doesn’t remember standing but he’s off the chair and his arms stop flailing mid-air.

Derek is quiet and Stiles can feel his heart pounding against his chest. This is not how he wanted tonight to go. At all. But if this is what it takes until either Deaton or him to find some answers then so be it. “You’d do that for me?” Derek asks softly and it’s an actual question. Stiles wasn’t sure if his boyfriend knew what a question was.

“Derek. I would do anything for you.” It pops out of his mouth before Stiles can think to stop it.

Derek smirks, raises an eyebrow and extends his hand, palm up to Stiles. The human grabs it without hesitation and finds Derek pulling him towards their room upstairs. Derek pushes Stiles into the room, bangs the door shut and looks at him expectantly. The Pack tends to forget that Derek was a born Beta wolf, and that sometimes he needs commands to follow. Stiles is comfortable enough in his sexuality to admit that bossing an alpha around gives him a boner. He just won’t admit it out loud.

“Take off your clothes. Shirt first.” Stiles tries to sound as authoritative as possible. Derek responds with a throaty growl, extends his index finger claw and cuts a line down the middle of his chest. The henley flaps open and Derek merely shrugs out of it, letting it billow around his feet. The sweatpants get the elastic ripped out and they slip right off the wolf’s firm hips. Derek’s uncut, thick monstercock is already half hard. He goes to wrap a hand around when Stiles interrupts.

“Not yet. On the bed, legs spread.” With grace that would make a ballerina cry, Derek slides onto the bed, stomach up. He curls up, resting on his elbows while raising his knees so they’re parallel with his shoulders. His dick hardening as it emerges from a forest of pubic hair. Derek’s pupils are blown but Stiles can still see a tint of forest green in them. 

The sight alone is making Stiles’ pants uncomfortable and he’s glad work requires khakis since jeans wouldn’t provide relief. Even in his darkest moments, Stiles is glad he forced Scott to hunt down that first mutilated body because it brought him this. Stiles makes quick work of his button down and undershirt, but after he unbuckles his belt, Derek growls. Stiles isn’t the only one giving commands tonight.

They pause and just look at each other. Derek’s eyes roaming over Stiles’ pale chest and slender neck all while Stiles can’t keep himself from staring at those powerful thighs and strong hips. Derek makes this low-pitched whine in the back of his throat and Stiles’ boner is threatening to break free from his boxers. But the wolf’s dick hasn’t moved yet and Stiles is determined to change that right now.

“It’s a Sunday morning,” Stiles starts. “Right after a full moon. We wake up in bed and I’m on you, chest to chest. I crawl up your body just a little bit and start kissing you. Not on the lips, on your jaw, chin, neck, cheek, ears. Then I slide my tongue over your lips. You part them only to shove you tongue down my throat. – No not yet,” Stiles berates as Derek’s right hand began slide towards his growing cock. Derek flexes his fingers and claps his shins roughly to prevent touching himself.

“I moan, a tiny little thing,” Even Stiles can smell his arousal. “And your hands splay on my back, rubbing little circles. A finger slips into the cleft of my round, smooth butt.” Oh, God that sounded stupid. “But I push it away-” Derek growls. “Instead I throw my head back, exposing my throat and clavicle. You rumble. – Left hand, grab the base but don’t move. – I push the sheets off of us and slip down, using my tongue to trace patterns on your chest. I avoid your nipples only to stop at your belly button. There I shove my tongue in as deep as it can get and murmur about how I’m yours.” 

Fuck, Stiles is dying here. He takes a look at Derek’s face and the fangs have slid out and there’s not enough color to tell if Derek’s eyes are alpha red or his regular sex god hazel. “Then I gently move your hard dick out of the way and kiss your big, beautiful balls. – Three strokes then stop. – After kissing each one, I suck them into my mouth and savor their sweat-sour taste. Ohhh Der- rek. They’re so full. Full of your cum. Your cock is on my face, rubbing against my nose. – Suck your right index finger. Make it wet.” 

Fuuuuccckkk. Stiles starts to palm himself as Derek laps at his finger. “Using my tongue, I push your balls out of my mouth, only to lick a strip up the underside of your cock. I get to the head, and leave it on my lips. They’re red and swollen, but when I open my mouth, I don’t take you in yet. Instead my tongue darts out and swirls around the crown. – Four stokes, stop, lift your hips and push your finger in.” 

Derek obeys and pumps his rock hard dick four times and nudges his fingertip into his hole. Stiles knows that going in that dry must hurt, but his werewolf can heal from the pain fast and only remembers the pleasure. At least, that what Derek always says when they go fast. “I wrap my lips around you, hollow out my cheeks and take you all the way in one motion. I gag a little because your cock is fucking huge, and we wait a moment but I slowly start to bob up and down. My mouth is warm and wet and I coat your entire length in spit. – Push deeper.”

Derek does as Stiles commands only to let out a groan that is downright obscene. “I go down faster and faster,” Stiles arches his hips into his hand and pushes on his dick. Fuck he needs to take care of this soon. He glances at Derek and the wolf has got two fingers in and he’s pumping his cock, spreading pre-cum over his knuckles and shaft. “Ahhh!!! Fuck! You start thrusting up. Just a bit, but enough so your balls hit my chiiiinnnn.”

“STILES!” Derek roars as he comes. White, sticky spurts landing on his stomach and perfect abs. It’s the hottest thing Stiles has ever seen and feels his balls tighten up and he feels that hot burning in his spine. He unzips his pants and lets them fall to the ground. He goes to wrap a hand round his engorged cock, but Derek pushes his hand out of the way.

“No Stiles. Fuck me,” It’s all the alpha says before he shoves Stiles onto the bed. Derek straddles the human’s hips, licks his hand once before positioning Stiles’ dick at his entrance. Without waiting, Derek slams his ass down and clenches around Stiles. He isn’t playing fair and it takes two more lifts and downward slams before Stiles is arching his back.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” Stiles screams as he comes deep into his wolfy. Derek lays his head on Stiles’ chest and rumbles so hard it shakes the younger man’s bones. But he doesn’t care. That was the best orgasm of his life. His arms loosely circle Derek’s shoulder blades, fingertips touching the triskelion tattoo and sighs.

“Goodnight, Derek. I love you.” The wolf just huffs, but he shimmies up and nuzzles Stiles’ neck.


	6. Smell Your Inadequacy

When Stiles wakes up in the morning his first thought is _no_. That being decided, he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. The next time he wakes up, he’s more refreshed and relaxed so he keeps his eyes shut and takes stock of the situation. The sunlight pouring in the room has yet to reach the bed, so it’s probably about eight. Derek is still on top of him, but both of them are flaccid. The alpha has him pinned to the bed, thighs and legs boxing his lower half in. Muscular arms are wrapped loosely around his waist and torso. Silky black hair gently tickling his chin.

Everything is straight out of his PG fantasies and Stiles really has to pee. He pushes Derek’s shoulders, trying to wake the man but the wolf just growls and tightens his hold. This is the one of the problems with dating a werewolf; when the sex is good, they cuddle like drunken octopi: limbs binding as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. Stiles thought he learned to live with this adorable downside. But right now, he really has to pee. 

“Derek. Wake up. Wake up, Derek. I have to pee. I’d pee on you, but you’d probably think it was me marking my territory or something. And I’m not really into waterworks. So please move.”

“Stiles. Shut up.” Derek grumbles but he rolls off Stiles and flops onto his back, one arm covering his eyes as he tries to sneak in a couple more minutes of sleep. That’s another thing about werewolves. They love to sleep and are more than willing to enable their partners to do the same.

And Derek is the best at encouraging this bad behavior. His long line of muscles and skin is just begging to be cuddled with. Stiles can fit his head perfectly into the space between the raised arm and the wolf’s neck. It would be so easy to scoot closer and rest his head there. But no, Stiles has to pee and it’s time to start the day.

Sighing, Stiles slumps out of bed, letting his feet land on the hardwood floor before trying to stand. His muscles groan and he feels a bone or two crack into place, but he doesn’t wait to waddle towards their private bathroom. He relives himself and lazily brushes his teeth before heading back to his warm bed.

Only once he opens the door, Derek is sitting on the edge, elbows on he’s knees, face buried in his fingers. Shit. “Stiles…” Derek pauses, face slipping into his mask. He’s trying to not showing any emotion, that way he won’t have to feel it as much. Fucking idiot.

“Stiles,” voice clear and loud. “Last night was a mistake, I shouldn’t have endanger you like that. I’m-”

“If you say you’re sorry, I’m punching you in the face,” Stiles interrupts. Of course he’s still worried about the blessing, despite the fact that nothing happened. “I don’t know about you, but last night was the best night of my life.”

“But I could have hurt you,” Derek whispers quietly.

“No. You couldn’t have,” Stiles is fast to correct him. Derek whips head towards the human, eyes boring into his boyfriend’s soul. “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you are never, ever going to hurt me. Remember when those hunters drugged you and threw me into a pit with you.” The alpha growls at the memories, but Stiles just continues talking. This is important. “You’d already ripped that deer to shreds; they were expecting you to do the same to me. But what happened?”

Derek is silent for a couple seconds, shifting through his memories, for his version of the tale. “You were hurt, arm broken. I had to protect you from the creatures above us. The only way to do that was to drag you into a corner and cover you with my body.” He sounds defeated. 

“Exactly! Even drugged out of your mind and body, your instincts still knew to protect me. Not harm but protect. Karl called it a blessing. I know Deaton said it was a curse, but that guy is cynical. And, yeah ‘magic comes with a price’ but if Karl is the one doing magic, he’s the one paying the price.” Stiles is careful not to mention that at least he should be. Magic is tricky, it does what it wants to do but it doesn't always follow a pattern.

“Okay.” Derek is quiet for a moment. So long of a moment that Stiles wants to talk but he knows Derek is still thinking, still digesting the information. “We’ll take about this more,” he says with a smirk. “But for now, get back in bed. It’s too early for this shit.”

Derek lays back down, on his side this time, pulls the sheet back and motions for Stiles to cuddle up. This is the only place Stiles will follow a direct order from his alpha, so he slides into Derek’s warm embrace and hums contently.

They lay in bed for hours; not talking, not sleeping more than a light daze, just content to be there with each other. In this life, Derek has to be the strong, tough-as-nails alpha or else people die. He’s has to sacrifice so much to keep the Pack and residents of Beacon Hills safe, that any comfort Stiles is able to provide, he does so with gusto. The fact that Stiles enjoys these moments just as much doesn’t need to be discussed.

It’s sometime around noon when Derek stiffs, and growls lightly before relaxing. Before Stiles can ask there’s a knocking on the door followed by a bitchy, “Stiles, I know you’re in there. I can smell your inadequacy from here.”

“Lydia, you’re smelling Jackson’s doucheness. My inadequacy is currently being covered up by Derek’s cum.” Stiles is laughing as he finishes.

The strawberry blonde opens the door and grins. “Really? Cause Erica says you two haven’t had sex all week.” Stiles goes to retort that they had sex just last night, thank you very much, but Lydia cuts him off. “But I don’t want to talk about your pathetic love life. I finished my paper and sent it to the committee. Not only am I the only woman to win the Field’s medal, I’m going to be the only two-time medalist. So, yes. I can smell your incompetence over Derek’s cum.

“Now push over. I want to cuddle too.” Lydia doesn’t give him a chance before snuggling on top of the sheet. She pushes in as close as she can get and wraps Derek’s arm around her lithe body. Her boobs are squished against Stiles’ body but Stiles just pulls back into Derek dragging her with him. Whenever any of the Pack comes back from being off territory they crowd Derek. Stiles isn’t sure why, never having left Derek’s side for more than a weekend, but he’s sure it’s a wolf thing. 

“Jackson!” Lydia yells, “Get in here already.” True to his nature, Jackson races in and slides into the bed, burrowing into Lydia and grabs onto Derek’s biceps. The alpha is rumbling like crazy. This is his version of purring and he must be thrilled to have most of the Pack home now.

Stiles doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up to Derek placing a plate of turkey sandwiches on the bedside table. “Lydia and Jackson went to their home. She tried explaining her paper to me, but once she said something about patterns and mapping time I tuned her out. She caught on because now we’ve having a dinner at Le Flou.” Derek’s lip curls at the fancy French restaurant’s name. 

It’s calm while Stiles takes a sandwich and begins eating. Lettuce, tomato, and honey mustard. Just how he likes it. “Maybe you were right,” Derek says focusing on bedroom wall above Stiles’ head.

“I usually am,” Stiles disrupts. “But please continue praising me.”

“Eat your food. You’ve got to gain back your energy.” Derek says, tone broking no arguments. “But thank you for looking out for me. For us.”

Stiles swallows his latest bite and says, “Why do I need energy? Are we doing something?” He pops the last of the sandwich into his mouth.

“I was thinking, that maybe you’d tell me what happens next,” Derek’s smirks and it’s feral and dirty. Stiles is totally confused and it must show on his face because Derek continues unprovoked. “As I remember, my balls were hitting your chin.”

Stiles chokes on the last piece of bread before looking at his boyfriend. The man’s face is serene and betrays the fact that he’s goading Stiles. But two can play at this game. “Right, right. Balls against my chin.” 

Stiles is quiet for a moment. But an idea strikes and being impulsive is in his skill set. He leans toward Derek, who is still standing next to the bed, and arches his back. He knows his pale skin is almost glowing-white in the sun and that this angle gives Derek a perfect view of his back and hints at his ass. “I could tell what happens next, or,” Stiles licks his lips, “or I could show you.”

Derek howls. Straight up, head thrown back, and howls. Then he’s pushes Stiles back, wreaking another pair of his sweatpants by ripping them off and captures Stiles’ mouth; lips and teeth hard against the human’s defenseless orifice. All Stiles can do is moan into that perfect mouth. He traces fangs with his tongue and bucks closer, glad that they’re both naked.

Derek pulls back panting, “Can… can you top again? Last night was too short.”

And hell fucking yeah, Stiles can top again. They’ve been together for five years now and like any couple, they experiment with positions and kinks. And Stiles loves having Derek inside him. Either tearing him apart, slamming into him with enough force to leave bruises or when he’s slow and so gentle that Stiles has to resist thrusting up just to for fiction. But Stiles gives as good as he gets and loves trying to mark Derek’s smooth skin. He’ll worship Derek’s hole for hours just so the wolf will slice their sheets into ribbons. They’re not confided to the notion of ‘tops and bottoms,’ it’s them and only them. 

Stiles doesn’t respond only to open the nightstands’ draw and pull out the lube. “On your knees? Or you riding me?”

Derek’s eyes flash red, “I’m riding you. Making sure you know that only I get to.” 

He’s more than fine with this. Nothing is hotter than having a 180 pound alpha slide up and down your dick. Well, maybe sliding up and down his dick. Semantics. Derek uncaps the lube, dollops just enough on Stiles’ already hard member and hovers just above the human. The wolf’s cock is hard against his stomach, pre-come coating his happy trail. And damn they both must be horny if the simple touching is making them hard. 

“Ready.” Derek says then, glides down Stiles. He gets about half way before he stops and pulls up, making sure to keep at least the cockhead in before falling down again. This time his ass makes contact with Stiles’ thighs and it takes every ounce of self-will to not smash further up into that tight, warm opening. But Derek is running the show and Stiles is okay with just being along for the ride. 

Derek continues his relentless attack, stopping only to change the angle or to swivel his hips. Sticky skin slapping against sweaty skin and Stiles can feel his orgasm coming faster than he wants. He scrunches his eyes as closed as possible and tries to think of unsexy things. It’s going well until Derek starts growl and roaring, his wolf briefly overtaking the man. “Come for me. Mate. Come.” 

And how the hell is Stiles supposed to ignore that order? He plunges as deep as possible once, bares his neck and then he’s cumming hard. He can feel his jizz coating every inch of Derek’s insides. The alpha roars loud enough to shake windows and then he’s shooting all over Stiles’ chest. A spurt even lands on the underside of human’s chin. Derek somehow manages to keep Stiles buried in him while leaning forward and cleaning the mess. When he’s done, he licks one long line from a nipple to the young man’s mouth and kisses Stiles.

It’s filthy and the taste of Derek’s semen mixes with faint traces of the turkey sandwich. It’s enough to make Stiles moans sultrily and he collapses further into the bed. Derek clenches around Stiles, which sends shocks through his spent body, only to lay down with most of his weight on the bed. He’s still mostly on Stiles, but not painfully so.

Stiles knows he’s spent most of the day in bed, but he says fuck it and closes his eyes and welcomes sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to guess at some of the Field's medal stuff. Please don't use this story as source material for official reports. It's not reliable.


	7. Werewolves love food

Their two-day escapades must have unlocked some sort bonus level because Stiles and Derek spend the following weeks participating in their most intense sexathon yet. Stiles gets welcome home blowjobs and Derek gets to begin the day by entering Stiles. One memorable occasion includes Derek coming home from a run only to get tackled in the backyard by a very handsy Stiles. Not that either of them are complaining. Derek loves being with his mate and Stiles loves being with his werewolf. It’s win-win.

And it stays win-win until Derek wakes up one Saturday morning feeling like shit. He refuses to get out of bed, keeps his eyes clamped shut, laying on his side, arms wrapped protectively around himself. Stiles doesn’t even to ask to know that Derek is in pain.

“Derek you have to relax,” Stiles says heroically trying to soothe the freaking out man. 

“Stiles! How am I supposed to relax when my chest hurts and it feels like my spine is broken.” Derek nearly snarls his response.

It takes all Stiles’ self-will to keep his face calm and open and to stop his heart from beating too fast. Werewolves don’t get sick unless something’s happened. Stiles knows this; Derek knows this. So whatever is happening to Derek has to be an outside force. Stiles can only think of one thing and he really, really hopes Derek has forgotten about Karl and his stupid blessing. The alpha has a tendency to focus on the here and now, so there’s a chance he’s too distracted to think about what could be causing this.

“I’m calling Scott to come take away some of your pain. And I’m staying home today.” Stiles says as he starts pushing buttons on his phone. “Maybe it’s because of all the sex we’ve been having. Maybe I finally wore you out.”

Derek is about to snark back, Stiles can see the words forming on his tongue but before he can get a word in Scott answers his phone. “Ugh! Stiles, if you’ve called me during sex again I’m leaving this pack,” he greets.

“Ha ha. Afraid not, Scotty boy,” Stiles says. Stiles makes sure to smile as he says this next part so as to not freak Scott out. “Actually, I’m calling cause I need you to come to the house. Well, Derek needs you to come to the house. I’d just be really grateful. I’ll make pancakes while you use your werewolf mojo to ease Derek’s pain. Thanks Scott!”

Stiles hangs up before toss the phone onto the bedside dresser. He looks to see Derek smirking before closing his eyes again and shuddering through a wave of pain. Just because Stiles isn’t a werewolf doesn’t mean he can’t comfort someone. In fact, his humanity can only be an asset here. He knows what it feels like to be in pain and not have your body heal itself within seconds.

Stiles climbs back into the bed and spoons Derek. “Scott’s coming. He’ll be here soon,” Stiles nearly croons. The two lay in bed until the front door slams open.

“Derek! Stiles! What’s happening?!”Scott screams as he bounds up the stairs into bedroom. He’s wolfed out and his golden eyes are wide and he’s sweeping the room looking for whatever threat could possibly hurt his alpha. 

It took years, but Scott is finally, _finally_ , able to call Derek his alpha out loud without it sounding sarcastic or wincing through it. Seeing Scott so worried fills Stiles with pride not only for his best friend’s growth but also for how far his pack has come. Gone are the days when they have to feel alone.

Stiles waves weakly before speaking, “Derek’s stomach and back hurt, so absorb his pain or whatever you do. I’ll start the pancakes.” 

With that said, he kisses Derek’s temple before scrambling downstairs to makes breakfast. He isn’t going to say it, but maybe Derek was right. They should have waited for Deaton to tell them something before acting. But Stiles can’t shake the feeling that Karl wasn’t a foe. He certainly wasn’t a friend, but Stiles is sure the cupid didn’t mean to harm them. Stiles lets his muscle memory make the pancakes while he debates the pros and cons of bringing up the blessing.

His internal arguing becomes moot anyways when Scott comes downstairs. “He’s sleeping now. Growled at me the whole time. Stiles, what happened?”

“Dude, I don’t know. But I think it may have something to do with Karl-” Stiles begins.

“The cupid? I thought you said it wasn’t anything to worry about.” Scott’s eyes flash before he takes a calming breath.

“Well, nothing happened. So we thought it was okay. I don’t know. How many pancakes do you want?” Stiles tries to distract Scott with food. Werewolves love food.

“Two. No, three. I’m meeting Allison for brunch.” Scott replies but barrels forward. “This is serious. If the blessing is hurting Derek we need to stop it.”

“Scott. I know. But this is the first time, he might just have the flu. Werewolf flu. That’s a thing right.” Stiles says as he turns to load the four finished pancakes onto a plate. He’ll baggie the rest and put them in the fridge for Derek. Stiles is going to joke around until everything is okay. That’s always been his first defense mechanism, and it’s worked so far.

But when he turns to look at Scott he knows the other man isn’t buying it. “Just keep an eye on him and call me if anything happens. Allison and I are having a day together, but Pack first.”

“Shit dude. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. But yeah, I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Now give me those!” Scott grins as he grabs the plate and immediately begins shoving its contents into his mouth. Stiles wishes he could say that it’s the wolf in Scott that makes him act this way, but the beta has always been gross.

Stiles laughs as he pushes him out the kitchen door and heads back upstairs to Derek. The alpha is sleeping so Stiles gets out his laptop and re-researches everything he can about cupids, blessings, magic and back pain. Knowledge is power and all that.

When Derek eventually wakes up, he says he’s fine and that he needs to get the book finished. That a deadline is looming and he wants to finish this and never think about harpies again. Stiles texts Scott that Derek is okay and that he’s writing. Stiles continues texting updates: _Derek is hungry and eating the rest of the pancakes. Derek is glaring at me. Derek wants me to stop texting you. Derek is mad that I texted you saying he wanted me to stop texting you. Derek doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t trust you, cause he does. Derek is threatening to withhold sex if I don’t stop. Derek doesn’t appreciate that I just laughed. Derek is going for a run. Derek is home now._

Eventually it gets to the point where Scott texts back that he gets it and to stop ruining his day-long date. Stiles just smirks. He had his fun. The day is relaxed for the most part and when the two settle in for sleep, Derek is holding Stiles’ back flush against his chest and breathing deeply. Before Stiles goes to sleep, he sends one last text thanking Scott.

He falls asleep before Scott can reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break, but I'm officially done with college! Updates every day until the story is complete (I'm think 3-5 more chapters).


	8. High School Asshats

In the morning the pain has returned. Derek is scrunched up in a little ball in the middle of the bed. Freaking out, Stiles is so passed trying to remain calm. Mysterious pain two mornings in a row will do that. “I’m calling Deaton this time.”

“No.” Derek snarls before his eyes flash red then hazel, then back to red before setting on hazel. He must be in a hell of a lot of pain to be losing control, even if it’s only temporary. “Call Scott again. If this keeps happening then I’ll go to Deaton. I don’t want him experimenting on me for his answers.”

And as bullshit as it is, Stiles would never put Derek in a situation where he didn’t feel safe. Deaton is a great guy, but his quest for knowledge and his inability to share said knowledge makes Stiles hesitate to leave Derek in his care.

“Fine. But if this continues I’ll calling an emergency pack meeting.” It’s the only threat Stiles has that carries weight. In the five years of their relationship, Stiles and Derek have only called three emergency pack meetings. Once when an entire neighboring pack had disappeared in the middle of the night (they still have no idea what happened); the second time was when the Sheriff died; and lastly, when Isaac had been accepted into the Montana State University veterinary master’s program. 

Derek merely nods before Stiles is whipping out his phone and calling Scott. He gets voicemail and winces as he leaves a message. “Heyyyy buddy! Derek needs you to come to the house again. Please call me back ASAP.”

Stiles turns to Derek, only to hear his phone ringing. “It’s Scott,” he announces to the room before answering.

“Stiles!” Scott is nearly screaming and seriously, fucking werewolves and their crappy manners. It’s a cell phone not tornado. Indoor voice. “What is it? Is Derek…Do I need to come back again?”

“Yeah man, it’s Derek. Please hurry.” Stiles gets Scott’s confirmation before hanging up and sitting down on the bed. He rubs Derek’s back until he hears Scott open the front door and saying something to someone. 

Derek opens his eyes and says, “Stiles, Allison is here. Go start making pancakes.” 

It sounds like a dismissal, but Stiles knows that Derek doesn’t want Allison to be in the house unwatched. Which is unfounded but the wolf is in pain so Stiles can just suck it up and deal with the crazy. He leaves the two weres together and goes downstairs. Allison is sitting on the couch so he motions for her to follow him into the kitchen. He’s making eggs, sausage, and home fries and Allison is helping.

Together, they get supplies and while Allison is frying the meat, Stiles scrabbles the eggs. “Derek doesn’t trust me,” Allison breaks the silence.

“No, not really.” Stiles really wants to lie to her, but they’ve both been through too much together for him to sugar-coat anything. “You and your family have hurt this pack a lot. And yeah, we’ve hurt you guys too. We’re both victims and villains. And Derek has hella issues. Like whoa.” 

Stiles pushes the eggs around, making sure they don’t burn. “But I trust you. We all deal with pain differently, and none of us are high school asshats anymore. We’ve grown, changed. A least I hope so. And hey, Derek is trusting you with his breakfast, that’s got to mean something. It’s the most important meal of the day and all that.”

Allison let out one of her ugly guffaws and starts humming as she flips the sausage. They just finish setting the table when Scott and Derek enter. Sitting at the head of the table, Derek makes eye contact with Stiles then declares that Scott is moving in with them for the time being.

And Stiles is pissed. He isn’t even trying to control his face or his smell because as much as he loves his best friend, he should have been included in that conversation. He would have said yes, hell maybe even would have tried to convince Derek, but that doesn’t matter he should have been there. But Allison must be more upset because she’s yelling before Stiles has a chance.

“Scott! I thought you were moving in with me!” She’s still standing and Stiles is thinking that maybe she’s more hurt than angry.

“I am!” Scott screams back and Stiles is reconsidering his whole _no longer high school asshats_ thing. Cause this, this is a total joke. He peeks to see what Derek is doing and the jerk is eating like nothing is happening. Stiles has a sickening thought that maybe Derek orchestrated this whole thing, but he quickly pushes that idea away. Derek would never hurt a pack member like that.

Scott exhales loudly, but when he speaks it’s quiet and nearly pleading. “Ally, honey, you know I love you. But this is for the pack.”

“It’s always pack!” Allison screams. “Why can’t I help. Why can’t I be part of this pack?!” Her voice trailing off at the end. 

And it’s quiet. Too quiet for Stiles. He wants to answer that but it’s for Derek, and Derek alone, to answer. The alpha seems to get it though cause he clears his throat and stands.

“Allison Argent.” Derek’s voice is deep and strong. “Do you wish to join this pack?”

“Yes!”Allison’s voice is firm now. “Yes, I would like to join the pack. I want to stay human though.”

There’s a small silence before Derek responds, “Okay. We vote as a pack to allow new members. You’ll have to wait for Isaac and Boyd to return before you can join fully. There’s also pack rules you’ll need to learn. Stiles will take care of that.” Derek nods and leaves the kitchen, heading towards his den.

Scott is almost bouncing with glee and Stiles is has no idea what just happened. But he can’t even begin to sort it out until he gets Derek alone. “Okay….” He starts, cause clearly neither one of them is going to say anything. 

“Allison, go talk to Lydia. Tell her you need a copy of the park bylaws – most of it is simple shit like not blabbing the secret. The code phrase is ‘Derek’s fabulous ass.’ Then come back here and pick me up. We’re gonna move Scott’s shit into your place and bring him the essentials. Cause dude, I love you but this is only temporary.”

Allison nods, hugs Scott and then leaves. The beta is on cloud nine, smile splitting his face in two. Stiles would laugh but he wants someone to watch over Derek, and he’s gonna be busy will Allison. “Dude! Go be happy in Derek’s den in case he needs you. And you better not kick him out!” Stiles yells to Derek.

Scott leaves and now Stiles is left with a messy table. Fucking werewolves! He cleans the table, because someone has to do it and it’s not like he has anything else to do. He places a call with the local pizzeria for dinner tonight, cause fuck making food. And waits for Allison to return.

Stiles is nested on the couch rereading one of Derek’s novels (what! His life is fascinating!) when he hears a car honk. He lets Allison drive him around town in her fancy SUV, packs a good portion of Scott’s crap, and when it starts getting late she brings him home.

Stiles is careful not to invite her in, instead he turns to her on the porch and asks the questions that have been threaten to burst from him all day. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you sure you want this? Being pack is a huge deal. And what about Scott? You two flip-flop a lot. Shit like that hurts the pack.”

“Stiles. I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve given this a lot of thought. I can help. And Scott and I are moving forward. It was hard for me to accept everything that happened.” There’s a pause and Allison stands up a little straighter and pushes her hair out of face. “It’s been hard for me and Scott cause of me. With everything that happened, I just couldn’t let go. But I tired of letting the ghosts of my past fuck up my life. That shit’s for high school asshats.”

Stiles doesn’t even try to stop laughing. He just throws his head back and crackles at the setting sun.

Allison smirks, “Now go inside so I can say goodnight to Scott.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Stiles doesn’t stand a chance as the Scott yanks the door open and pushes Stiles into the house.

He just smiles and heads into the kitchen, hoping the wolves left him some pizza. One slice of meat lover’s later, Stiles trudges upstairs to find his wolf asleep in bed. Walking to the bedroom windows, Stiles pulls the curtains closed. And if he thinks this sunset is little more purple than normal, it’s probably because his eye lids feel like 100 pound weights.


	9. Le Flou

The rest of the week follows a pattern of Derek waking up in pain, Scott absorbing the pain and Stiles not-so-silently freaking out. But as the days go by, both Derek and Scott are adamant to let Stiles know that the pain lessens each morning. As Derek eloquently puts it, “it no longer feels like my insides are rearranging.”

Derek snarls and growls and pouts until Stiles goes back to work while Danny and Scott take turns watching over their alpha during the day. Deaton is remarkably understanding that Scott is going to be late and Danny can do his computer programming stuff in the house. He just needs WiFi and a quiet atmosphere.

They fall into a simple rhythm that only gets disrupted when Allison comes over. She’s usually around for an hour before the screaming starts. Stiles quickly leaves, wanting to give the couple a chance for privacy. Derek refuses to stop working but he’ll wear the noise-cancelling headphones Stiles bought him. Stiles hopes to god that the two of them pull their heads out of their asses before Boyd and Isaac come home, otherwise he’ll vote that she doesn’t join the pack. He has to. 

Twenty-five days and counting.

And then miracles of miracles, Derek wakes up without any pain. He’s smiling (well, Derek’s version of smiling) and Stiles whoops with joy when he kicks Scott out of the house. Derek doesn’t even wait for the door to close before he’s pulling Stiles in for a scorching kiss. Tongue plunging into the human’s mouth, swallowing surprised gasps. 

When Derek moves to lap at Stiles’ neck, he begins whispering sweet nothings. Murmurs about soft skin and caring mates wrap around the pale column of skin and Stiles is ready to come in his pants. This is of course the exact moment Lydia barges in ignoring the fact that her alpha has his hands cupping one of her supposed best friend’s ass. Stiles knew she was lying about that - no way would a friend intentionally cockblock him like this.

“As much as I liked to see you violate Stiles, you owe me dinner,” Lydia says placing her hands on her hips. Her eyes sparkle with the knowledge that she’s unstoppable. God, Stiles loves her. Their relationship is complicated, okay?

When neither Stiles nor Derek separate, Lydia huffs and her strawberry blonde hair bounces as she advances towards them. Placing each hand on a different person’s shoulder, she pushes them apart, only to grab Stiles’ hand. Stiles is on the porch before he realizes that Lydia is physically dragging him to her Prius. Jackson is sullen in the front seat, but he smirks when the duo approaches.

Stiles turns to see Derek locking their front door with two coats over his shoulder. Traitor. Lydia is shoving him into the back when Derek climbs into the front. Jackson raises his eyebrows at that. “What are you doing? Lydia doesn’t let anyone drive,” he states.

Derek doesn’t turn, only sticks his hand into the back. “I’m the alpha. Keys.”

Stiles makes eye contact in the rear-view mirror and if the tiny crinkles are anything to judge by, Derek is getting his petty revenge in now. Whatever. Serves Lydia right. She huffs again but hands over her keys. It takes Derek 30 minutes to get to Le Flou and park in the back of the lot. Stiles jumps out and heads to the door. Better to get this over with as quick as possible.

The restaurant is painted a creamy tan and the windows have rich, warm red curtains preventing Stiles from seeing inside. Doesn’t matter; he’s been here before and hated the sleek black leather booths, the impossible to pronounce dishes and most of all, the snooty staff. Derek hates the never-lit fireplace and having flowers on the table as he tries to eat. In short, they both hate this place and it’s fitting punishment for Derek’s inability to fake a way through Lydia’s math talk. Stiles just doesn’t understand why he’s being punished too.

As they approach the restaurant the tuxedo-clad host barely contains his disgust at Stiles’ plaid shirts and baggy khakis. When he sees Derek’s tank top and skin tight jeans, his sneer only grows. “I’m sorry _gentlemen_ ,” he says it like an insult. “But Le Flou has a strict dress code. Perhaps the Taco Bell across town would be more to your liking.”

“You mean the Taco Bell that has a wooden slab instead of windows,” Stiles snarks before he can stop himself. It doesn’t matter that Stiles is a regular enough to have a “usual” and knows the staff by name. This guy is being a fucking asshole.

“Preciously,” the snotty man replies with a triumph smile.

“It’s fine Monsieur Pierre. They’re with us,” Lydia says from behind Stiles. “Our normal table, please.”

“Of course Mademoiselle Martin. Right this way.” Pierre says as he leads them to a secluded corner booth. Derek merely stares at Stiles until the human scooches across the seat until Derek has more than enough room to sit down. Stiles doesn’t even remember what it’s like to not have to ask someone to move so he can pee. God, why does he have to be here. He voices this concern once Lydia is sitting across from him.

But it’s Derek that answers, “Cause if I have be here, so do you.” The fucker is smirking. Stiles makes the brash, but completely genius, decision to not speak to him for the rest of the meal.

There’s a quiet pause as everyone settles in. “So what’s everyone getting?” Stiles asks with the hope that Lydia will pronounce something tasty that he can just mimic when their waiter comes.

She raises an eyebrow mockingly before Jackson answers. “We already ordered for you slobs. Saves us from the embarrassment of hearing you butcher French.”

That earns him a glare and an indignant huff despite Stiles being slightly relieved. Stiles and his level of confidence have come a long way since high school, but he still hates to be the butt of a joke. Lydia smiles before launching into an explanation of her paper. Her voice is full of pride and passion as she maintains eye contact with him.

And Stiles finally understands why he’s here: for all of her goddnessness, Lydia is still human and she wants to talk about her work with someone who will respond at her level. Lord knows Jackson doesn’t understand anything she’s saying and Derek has already proven that he’d rather think about hunting than try to fake his way through a conversation with her. So Stiles tries his best to comprehend and respond accordingly.

“Okay, that all makes sense. I think. But aren’t you worried that messing with particles like that create a black hole? Like the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva almost did years ago.” Stiles is actually afraid that Lydia is planning world domination.

“No,” is all she responds with, but she’s grinning so Stiles doesn’t know what to think. He checks in with the wolves and they’re talking about the difference between chasing rabbits and chasing squirrel. Seriously. He faces Lydia and they share an eye roll for their boyfriends. 

That’s when a waitress with a covered tray strides to their table. She places the tray in the center of the table and removes the silver cover with an unneeded fluoresce, revealing a plate of escargot. Jackson and Lydia share a smirk but when Stiles looks at Derek the alpha’s nostrils are flared and he’s turning a sick green. His shoulders bunch up and his Adam’s apple bobs erratically. 

He pushes the plate hard enough that it almost topples into Lydia’s lap, only to run to the bathroom just a bit too fast for a human. Stiles looks to Jackson and then the two of them are chasing after Derek. They enter the bathroom to see him hunched over a sink puking his guts out. He retches again, spurring Stiles into action. 

Stiles rubs soothing circles into Derek’s back while he commands Jackson. “We’re going to Deaton’s. Call him and ask him to stay late. Tell Lydia we’re leaving.”

Jackson looks like he wants to complain but something in Stiles’ face must make him realize how much of a mistake that would be because he’s nodding then turns to get Lydia. Stiles hovers around Derek as the man stays bent over, panting into the sink. He’s stopped vomiting for the moment, but he’s not trying to persuade Stiles from not seeing Deaton.

Jackson opens the door, “We’re all set.” He then walks into the bathroom and wraps one of Derek’s arms around his shoulder and hoists the older man up before waddling him out of the restaurant. Stiles trails behind, prepared to protect their flank if need be.

Lydia has the doors open and the three of them cram into the back. She pulls out and is careening towards the vet’s office before anyone can buckle. “Deaton says he’ll be waiting for us. Stiles, what’s happening.”

“Derek’s been having some mysterious morning pains, but they stopped so I thought we were safe. I think it’s the blessing,” Stiles rushes through the explanation.

Derek stills at the mention of the blessing before he’s roaring about cupids and ripping wings off. He’s giving a surprisingly detailed way of how he’ll shred Karl to pieces when he closes his eyes and he cheeks puff out. Stiles prays that he keeps down whatever is threatening to come out. He looks like it pains him, but Derek swallows it.

Lydia pulls into Deaton’s driveway and the good doctor rushes out to help them load Derek into an exam room. Stiles laughs at the irony – it’s the same one Karl stayed in two months ago. Deaton starts pulling machines into the room when Scott storms in. He ushers Stiles, Lydia and Jackson into the waiting room where they’re greeted by Danny and Erica. Boyd calls and Stiles leaves him on speakerphone while the quintet pace around. Occasionally, the wolves give the humans updates. He hates that he isn’t in there, but he has to trust that Scott will look out for Derek.

Finally, Deaton exits the room and five pairs of eyes snap to him. “I think I understand what the blessing was. Congratulations Mr. Stilinski, you’re going to be a father, Derek’s pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a [deleted scene](http://itendswithz.tumblr.com/post/50551139826/update-and-a-deleted-scene) on my tumblr. 
> 
> Sorry for the slow updates, but I promise this will be done before June.  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments!


	10. Piece By Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it's clear, but Danny is a werewolf.
> 
> Also, I feel like I may have gone a little OOC, let me know if you agree or disagree.

The room explodes into chaos as the pack reacts to Deaton’s words. But Stiles ignores it all and lets that final word swarm his thoughts.

_Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant._

“Wait, everyone shut up,” Stiles commands. He faces Deaton. “Pregnant as in pregnant pregnant? Like with a baby? Pregnant?”

Deaton smirks at his questions, but answers. “Yes Mr. Stilinski. Pregnant with a baby. Or maybe a cub. Unsurprisingly, I don’t have much experience with male werewolf pregnancy.”

For the first time in his life, Stiles is stunned silent. It only lasts twenty seconds, but he figures this moment is worth acknowledging. Apparently, it takes mystic pregnancies to shut him up. Sensing an opportunity, Deaton speaks again. “If you’d like to come into the back, I can explain everything. I’m sure Derek would like having you nearby as well.”

“Yeah.” Stiles nods as he talks. “Yeah, I should be near Derek. And you should explain everything. Explain everything while I’m near Derek. That sounds like a good idea. Yeah.”

Lydia comes up beside him. “Stiles go talk with Deaton and Derek. I’ll handle everything out here.” She gently pushes him forward a step. As Stiles continues walking through the metal doors he hears Lydia talking but none of it registers. 

Stiles pushes into the room to see a shirtless Derek lying flat on his back on the exam table. Scott is hovering at Derek’s shoulders. The beta is grinning like a mad man, his eyes sparkling as their flash between supernatural yellow and his normal crisp brown. “I’ll give you two some space,” he says with a smile. Scott squeezes Stiles’ shoulder once before leaving the room.

Stiles looks to where Derek is now leaning up on the table: the soles of his feet resting firmly, forcing his toes to point to the ceiling; his powerful stomach muscles bunching together to allow the alpha to lean forward; arms dangling at his sides; to anyone else, his expression would be completely blank but Stiles can read it perfectly. The tight lines around his mouth means he’s worried, the slight crease in his eyebrows means he’s getting ready for a fight, the flaring nostrils means he’s afraid. 

Stiles takes it all in and can’t stop himself from thinking about a daughter with twinkling hazel eyes that’ll drive all the boys crazy. Or a son with razor sharp cheek bones that’ll make girls swoon. Stiles makes eye contact, and he’ll never be able to explain how, but he knows that Derek is thinking something along those same lines. He surges forward until his arms wrap around the warm werewolf’s chest. He senses Derek’s tight grip along his waist.

“A baby. A baby! Derek, we’re gonna have a baby!” Stiles starts crying into Derek’s shoulder and he isn’t surprised to feel water landing on his own shoulder as Derek starts to shake. The two hold each one another, silently crying onto the other’s shoulder until Derek stiffens and Stiles hears Deaton clear his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have much to discuss. 

“First, are you keeping the baby? I can dispose of it-”

“NO!” Stiles screams as he shields Derek over the alpha’s threatening growl. Deaton steps back and Stiles thinks this may be the first time the man has feared a member of the Hale pack. Excluding Peter, because no one was stupid enough _not_ to fear Peter. Stiles prays a silent thanks that that fucker is dead and buried and unable to fuck with his baby’s life.

Deaton swallows once before speaking again. “Okay. You’re keeping the baby.” There’s a pause and Stiles can’t tell if it’s because Deaton doesn’t know what to say or if it’s because he’s trying to approach the next topic with a little more tact. The man is furiously impossible to read.

“I think it’s clear that Mr. Stilinski is the father.” Stiles nods because what else is he supposed to do. Derek glares so hard it’s shocking that Deaton’s face hasn’t melted. “That being said, I have never heard of a male werewolf being pregnant. This must be the cupid’s doing.

“As a medical professional, the only course of action I can approve of is to treat this like if it was a normal pregnancy. Derek, you’ll have start taking prenatal vitamins and we’ll have to perform a Caesarean section since you are lacking a birth canal. Frankly, it’s a miracle the cupid’s magic didn’t rip your organs apart to make room for the womb.”

A heavy silence falls over the room and Stiles can feel his heart racing. _Does Derek still have all he’s organs?_

“Ummm. Can we double check to make sure Derek is safe?” Stiles tries to ask smoothly, but he’s sure both men pick up on his fear. 

Deaton gives him a knowing look and sighs. “I understand the need for privacy. We can’t let anyone know Derek is vulnerable. But please try to include me when something happens. For the baby’s sake.”

Stiles feels like he should say something to defend their choices, but Derek growls once before he answers. “At the time, we didn’t want your opinion. But now, we’ll inform of **important** changes.” It’s quiet for a minute before Derek pulls Stiles closer to him and speaks again. “And if you ever try to use our child as a bargaining chip again, I will personally feed the baby your heart. Piece by piece.”

Deaton visibly pulls back before he coughs to cover the action. “Right. I will retrieve the ultrasound machine to verify that Derek is still healthy.” 

He disappears into a side room and returns rolling an ultrasound machine in front of him. Without prompt, Derek leans back down. Stiles quickly comes to his side and clasps the wolf’s left hand in-between both of his hands. Deaton starts the machine up and dollops some gel on Derek’s stomach. The alpha momentarily tenses, but he relaxes as Deaton moves the wand around. 

The vet is quiet until he settles the wand near the top of Derek’s jeans. “There he or she is. Everything looks good. It’s still too early to tell the sex, but Derek, Stiles. Meet your baby.”

The couple turns to the screen only to see gray lines swirl within a black screen. Stiles can’t make anything out, but suddenly Deaton is turning a knob and a steady _thump-thump_ can be heard. Stiles is about to say something, anything when he hears a loud squeal.

“Is that the heartbeat?!” Erica’s light voice breaks into the room.

Stiles chuckles and twists to see Derek. “What do you say Momma Wolf, can the others see our baby too?”

Derek glares, but there’s no heat behind it. He faces the door and barely raises his voice to say, “Pack! Come meet the newest member.”

There’s a mad scramble as Danny shoves Erica out of the way to be the first inside the room. Erica shots draggers at him, but she sways forward as Scott and Jackson follow. Lydia is the last to enter, but she’s holding Stiles phone screen up, presumably with Boyd and Isaac still on speakerphone. 

The wolves crowd Derek, eyes locked on the screen, ears shifted to memorize the baby’s heartbeat. Lydia locks her arm with Stiles’ and pulls him a little ways away from the group. “Boyd and Isaac are going to stay in Montana until Isaac is done. Then they’re running home. Literally. I’ve cancelled their flight plan. Danny is moving in with you two and will forge some adoption papers. Jackson and I will remain on standby.” 

She pauses as if to breathe, but it’s a lie. Lydia has never needed to pause to breathe mid-speech. “Someone needs to inform Allison on what’s happening.” She gives Stiles a pointed look. “That someone also needs to convince her the importance of not letting her hunter father and his hunter friends from finding out. Don’t worry. We’ll handle this.”

She pats Stiles’ shoulder before turning to the pack. “I’m in charge of decorating her room. It’s being painted mauve. End of discussion.”

Stiles looks eyes with Derek and the two share a smirk. Mauve sounds like a perfect color for their baby.


	11. Agnst Rule 6. Evr1 Safe

Getting Derek and the pack home is easier than Stiles would have guessed. Deaton lets them stay for a few hours before he starts clearing his throat and mentioning how some people have work in the morning, as if the pack is still a bunch of free-loading teenagers. Ass.

Lydia, Jackson and Erica drive off in Lydia’s Prius while Scott, Danny, Derek and Stiles cram into Danny’s Mustang Cobra. What is with werewolves and fast cars? Jesus Christ. Derek tries to claim the driver’s seat but Stiles makes me ride shotgun, then slips into the seat behind him. Scott practically falls into the backseat as Danny gets behind the wheel. Danny brings them home while Scott shoots Allison a text saying there’s a nonlethal pack emergency and he’s spending the night at the Hale House. 

“Dude,” Stiles says smacking Scott’s arm. “Tell her that she’s more than welcome to come over. We need our pack together.”

“Oh!” Scott responds slowly. “Yeah! That’s a great idea.” He looks down and begins furiously typing.

It takes all of Stiles’ willpower not to rub his forehead. Seriously, Boyd and Isaac are going to be here in twenty-two days and he has a baby on the way. He doesn’t have time for this shit. Stiles exhales and focuses on the fact that he, Stiles Stilinski, has a baby on the way. He can’t help himself as he leans forward and wraps an arm around Derek’s middle.

The alpha responds in kind by placing his arm over Stiles’ and rumbles in contentment. They’re almost home when Stiles’ cell bings, alerting him to a new text.

It’s from Allison, _What’s going on? I’m at dad’s_

Stiles starts to type out the good news when he remembers Lydia’s words. He sighs and responds, _Cant tell u ovr text. Agnst rule 6. Evr1 safe_.

“Home, sweet home,” Danny nearly sings when they reach the house. He jumps and rushes to open Derek’s door. Shooting Stiles a smirk, he then places his right hand on the small of Derek’s back and escorts him into the house. Despite the alpha grumbling the whole time. 

Scott scrambles in after them laughing and as Stiles steps onto the porch his phone bings again. _Thank God! Okay. I’ll swing by tomorrow when the sun’s up._

Stiles shakes his head and texts back a “kk.” Allison should be here to celebrate this, but Stiles is oddly glad that she isn’t coming over just yet. That’ll give him some time to think of a plan to tell her what’s up and more importantly, figure out how to handle her father. And keep Derek safe and hidden away. Fuck, Stiles is going to be busy. He decides that Lydia and he are going to have to powwow sometime this week and form plans. Lots and lots of plans.

He stays outside for bit, just thinking about life and how crazy it really is. He wishes his mom, his dad and the Hales could be here to witness this. He maybe wallows a tiny smidgen, but the idea of his daughter or son running around cheers him up pretty fast. They’ll have to prepare for a baby werewolf (however the fuck that’s done), just in case. Stiles may be the father, but he doubts there’s been a lot of genetics on human-werewolf interbreeding. He huffs a laugh, his child might not even be the same species as him.

Deciding that he’s spent enough time outside, Stiles opens the front door and heads to his room. Derek is awake in the middle of the bed, lying on his back. There’s a thin sheet covering his lower half, but Stiles can see the outline of Derek’s cock. He glances at Stiles when the human enters the room but just smiles and looks up at the ceiling. Stiles smirks, cause yeah he got someone pregnant, then brushes his teeth in their private bathroom.

He returns to the room to find Derek still in the middle of the bed, arms spread wide out. The sheet has slipped down, wrapping around the wolf’s hips, his semi-hard cock slightly tenting the fabric. Derek clearly wants to cuddle, Derek’s body clearly wants to fuck. Stiles is up for both and he knows the alpha wants the cuddles first.

He shucks his khakis and shirts and climbs into the bed, on the right-handed side. It’s difficult, but he manages to avoid Derek’s erogenous zones. Werewolves are very tactile, so not only does Stiles evade Derek’s sledgehammer of a dick, but he skips the wolf’s fun bag balls, Derek’s perky nipples, his firm wrists and snuggly armpit. Instead, Stiles slots himself under Derek’s jaw and breathes lightly onto the side of his neck. They lay there in quiet until Derek speaks.

“A cub,” his voice horse with emotion. Derek exhales, “A cub, Stiles. Are we ready for a cub?”

“Yes,” Stiles responds immediately. “It’s going to be crazy, but the whole pack will be here. Boyd and Isaac are almost done. We’ll all protect you and the baby. I’ll protect you.” He swings an arm to drape over Derek’s stomach at this.

The alpha is still and Stiles knows Derek is thinking, but for the first time in their relationship Stiles can’t get a good read on the man. That is, until Derek throws his arm down and grips Stiles’ hip roughly. He squeezes extra hard and the human understands that this is how the wolf conveys his love, trust and desire to protect. The sentiment sends shivers down Stiles’ spine and arousal pools in his lower belly.

But they stay like that; Stiles’ arm caressing Derek’s stomach, Derek’s arm engulfing Stiles’ hip. That is until the wolf’s grip changes from a _I’m so glad I’m with you_ hold to a _I’m so **very** glad I’m with you_ clutch – thick fingers pressing into the soft flesh of Stiles’ butt.

Stiles smirks up at Derek and wiggles into the embrace, making sure to drag his hardening cock over Derek’s hips. They share a shudder as Derek’s pinky finger teases Stiles’ hole. Derek leans in and takes a huge whiff of Stiles’ neck before rolling them around. It ends with Stiles face down into a pillow, Derek on his knees and elbows above him. “I’m gonna get the lube, don’t move,” the wolf breathes into the shell of Stiles’ ear. 

Stiles keens upward as Derek leaves the bed, only to have a strong arm force his body down. He hears their bedside dresser draw open and feels the bed dip as the alpha slides behind him. Stiles tries to move again, but Derek just keeps him pinned down. “No Stiles,” Derek grunts as he uncaps the tiny bottle of unflavored lube. “I’m not letting you see anything, just sensory reactions.”

They’ve done this before; Derek forcing Stiles to feel, more than see and know, what’s happening to his body. It’s a favorite of theirs. Stiles intertwines his fingers and places them on the back of his head. He exhales and noses further into the pillow.

The first drop of slick lube is cold enough to force a breathy exhale. Derek, the jerk, didn’t warm it up in his palm, probably just let it drip straight from the bottle. Another drop hits his crack and Stiles can’t help the quick intake and slight moan. Derek’s smooth hands encase his cheeks and pull them apart. There’s a stillness in the air as Stiles squirms, anticipating Derek’s next move. Will he use a finger? Two? Or maybe jump right to dick. He’s not really stretched out enough for cock, but he could take it.

He braces himself for a finger, that’s the most logical next stop when he feels the brush of wet, rough muscle swipe his entrance. Stiles was not prepared for the alpha’s tongue, and make no mistake, that’s an inhumanly wide swipe path.

“Ahhhaahhh,” Stiles moans. “De-ree-ick.”

Derek doesn’t pause to grumble, just keeps rimming him. The vibrations send little shocks to Stiles’ raging dick. He ruts against the bed, desperate for friction, only to have the wolf pull his hips up. “Not yet mate.” 

The alpha continues his onslaught until Stiles is ready to burst. His balls are high and his dick is leaking precome so furiously it’s staining the sheet. His vision is getting hazy and his knuckles are white as his fingers fist in his hair. “Derek,” he begs. “Please. Just fuck me. Pa-lease.”

Derek pulls his face up and leans over his back, his breathe warm on Stiles’ ears. “Is that what you want? Why didn’t you just say so.” He chuckles darkly and Stiles feels his spine bow up, frantic to have as much of Derek’s skin on his as possible. 

The wolf rearranges his hips, lining up and a hand slides down to help ease himself into Stiles. The human feels the head slowly breech him and there’s the burn that should be painful but isn’t, but something’s off. Derek sinks leisurely, inch by maddening inch. It’s not till he bottoms out, balls against ass that Stiles realizes what’s different. “You’re wearing a condom?” He shutters.

Derek stills, letting Stiles adjust then whisper-pants, “Couldn’t risk you getting pregnant too.” He pulls back slightly, “Have to protect you,” and slams back in. 

The force is enough to push Stiles into their headboard and he groans. It may sound sexy, but getting slammed into solid wood like that hurts like a bitch. Derek pulls out all the way, drops off the bed and drags Stiles into the middle. Stiles feels his thighs being pushed open, knees bending so his ankles touch at the small of Derek’s back. It’s an intense position for them both, and one they haven’t done in a while.

Derek fucks into just as slowly as before and it’s driving Stiles crazy. There’s barely enough room for him to thrust back, Derek having all the leverage. It’s wonderfully awful until Derek starts a brutal pace of drawing back just to pound straight in. “I wanted to go slow,” he grunts. “But you’re just so damn tight and perfect.”

It’s harder for Derek to reach his prostate in this position, not able to really power his thrusts, but the wolf does it anyways. Stiles howls and meows until he feels a thumb pressing roughly at his perineum and he explodes. Fireworks behind the eyes, oxygen leaving the body, and a myriad of other clichés about orgasming. Stiles feels them all. He screams Derek’s name and as he’s returning to his body, he feels the wolf still and shudder, filling the condom. It’s weird not having Derek come inside him, weird not having it leak out; and when Derek pulls out, Stiles is left feeling more empty than usual.

Derek does something with the filled latex (probably throwing it away in their bathroom trash) because the next moment he’s scooping Stiles into his arms, his softening dick, resting just outside Stiles’ welcoming hole. Like always, Derek is almost instantly asleep.

But Stiles’ mind is tinkering, thinking something important that it doesn’t want to share with him. Just another day with ADHD – thinking a million thoughts at once, but unable to focus on the important one. Stiles exhales slowly and cuddles into Derek more. He’ll either realize the thought tomorrow or never, he’s learned to not push the issue.

Stiles falls into a light slumber and dreams of Derek surrounded by kids – human and werewolf alike – and when Derek goes to lift a child replicate of himself, a gold wedding band sparkles in the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is done(!) and will be posted tomorrow. In case you missed it, I posted a short fic that is now being turned into a series because of the love it received.
> 
> I've also got two (maybe three) one-shot ideas bouncing around, so keep an eye out for those.
> 
> And that last sex scene, totally not planned. It just felt right. haha


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented, kudos'ed and subscribed! You are all wonderful, beautiful beings.
> 
> I'm moving soon, but there will be a couple one-shots posted in the future. And of course the new season starts Monday. Monday!

Stiles wakes up completely relaxed. The faint red lines of the alarm clock says it’s 2:45. Stiles hopes everyone else slept in too. His ass is sore and his thighs are rubbed raw, but it’s the best night sleep he’s had in a while. He can’t quite remember his dream, just knows that it involved Derek somehow but that’s unsurprising. All of his dreams involve Derek. Stiles scoffs at the corniness his mind sometimes dips into.

He wonders for a moment what woke him, only to have the sound of Derek retching answer. It’s gross and the sound of chunks hitting toilet water makes Stiles’ stomach queasy. He might not have loved using a condom last night, but if it saves Stiles from making that sound it was worth it. He immediately feels a wave of guilt – he should be comforting Derek, not being glad he avoided being the one kneel to the porcelain throne. 

The thought alone spurs him out of bed. As Stiles is battling his way out of the sheet, Derek stumbles out of the bathroom. He glowers at Stiles, “Not a word,” he gruffs.

Stiles is offended! He would never insult a pregnant person. He tells Derek so just to see his boyfriend’s eye roll and the corner of his lips valiantly trying not to curl into a grin. Score one for Stilinski. There’s a knock on the door before Danny pokes his head into the room, “alpha. Baby Daddy,” he smirks. ““Breakfast’s” ready.”

Danny ducks out to Stiles’ loud crackles and Derek’s hard glare. “Favorite pack member,” Stiles wheezes.

“Hey!” Scott yells indigently from somewhere downstairs.

Derek looks at Stiles and the moment is sort of perfect in its ordinary. The wolf opens his mouth to say something, only for Stiles’ phone to ring and shatter whatever domestic atmosphere they had. 

_Shot through the heart_ screams in the air before Stiles can answer. “Hey Allison,” he says, strangely out of breath. 

“Stiles,” she sounds happy. Stiles can almost picture her warm smile. “I know I was supposed to come over, but Jodi’s back at Good Eats. She’s making blueberry pancakes! Are you coming?”

For the first time since Karl, Stiles looks at Derek for permission. He should stay here and eat whatever Danny (please God let it be Danny) made for lunch. It’s the morning (day, whatever) after he found out he’s going to be a daddy, he should be with his pack. But Jodi made the best pancakes even before she left for culinary school, _in France_. 

Derek sighs like Stiles has asked him to cut off a limb, which is bullshit because Stiles has been on the end of that question, but answers. “Go. You two have a lot to discuss,” he ends it with a nod and stalks out of the room not bothering to put on a shirt or pants. What the actual fuck. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Stiles tells Allison. “Grab the corner booth and order me a stack.”

She squeals before promising to do so. Then hangs up without a goodbye. Stiles shakes his head pulls opens his closet looking for a shirt. He chooses a Hulk shirt and a red plaid to clash. Loose blue jeans and black boxers complete the outfit. Stiles rushes into the bathroom and takes a quick shower, gets dressed even faster and rushes downstairs. 

The wolves are sitting around the dining room table and it’s clear that Scott made grilled cheese. Stiles has never been more grateful for Allison then in that moment, any excuse to miss Scott’s “cooking” is welcomed. He’s a little surprised to see Derek in track pants, but he just swoops in and kisses the alpha’s cheek. “I’ll be home soon. Kisses,” he says looking at Scott and Danny.

By the time he gets to the 24 hour breakfast place, there’s a line outside the restaurant. He skips ahead, ignoring the groans and complaints from other patrons, only to find Allison waiting at the door. “We’ll get our booth, we just gotta wait a few,” she’s full-blown dimple smiling and now it’s kind of annoying. Unless she has great news, seeing Stiles isn’t worth that much smiling.

“A few” turns out to be thirty minutes, seems like the whole town has come out to get some of Jodi’s pancakes. Stiles can’t really blame them. He shoots a quick text to Derek when it becomes clear that “soon” is going to be relatively, not definite. Allison wisely doesn’t mention anything pack related in the crowd, so they debate who’s the best Avenger.

Allison incorrectly thinks it’s Hawkeye (“Archers stick together,” she giggles.), when it’s clearly Bruce Banner. Stiles proves this by waving at his shirt. And hello, he has excellent control, brilliant and is constantly fighting against a wild beast within – much like their werewolf brethren. He might be a little bias with this thought process. This somehow spirals into a conversation of which pack member would be which Avenger. It’s mid-afternoon when the middle aged waitress guides them to their booth in the back and leaves them to their menus.

So far, they’ve agreed that Derek is Iron Man – tries so hard to protect the people he loves; Lydia is Black Widow – deadly redhead whose been mind fucked; Scott is Captain America – heart of gold, hates bullies; Erica is Thor – sexy, loud and sweet; Isaac is Hawkeye – family troubles but never gives up; Stiles is Coulson – resourceful and human; Danny is Jarvis, movie version – works magic with computers. They’re stuck on Jackson until Stiles shouts, “He’s Hydra!”

Allison laughs loudly then asks, “Who would I be?” 

She sounds oddly serious for a conversation meant just to pass the time. So Stiles decides to be serious too. “You’re Pepper Potts. Dangerous, beautiful and sometimes left out.” 

It’s quiet as the atmosphere turns somber. “Not for long,” Allison says passionately. “I’ll be a full-fledged member in twenty days.”

Stiles wants to tell her not necessarily, she could be down-voted. He knows Scott, Jackson, Danny and Lydia will say yes. Erica is going to say no. Boyd and Isaac could go either way. Stiles has no idea about Derek. The alpha’s instinct to expand is always present, but he might not want an Argent as a packmate. Stiles himself has no idea how he’ll vote, but he has twenty days to sort out his decision.

“Last night,” Allison cuts into his thoughts. “I told my dad about my intentions. He wasn’t happy, but I felt like he needed to know.”

Stiles feels a wave of angry. Allison should not be discussing pack business with a hunter, regardless of her personal connection. But he remembers what it was like to keep a secret from his dad, and he crumbles. “Speaking of Chris, we need you to help us plan around him,” he sighs.

The waitress returns and takes their order before Allison stares at Stiles, silently telling him to explain. “Last night,” he begins. “Something happened that I can’t say in a crowded place.” At her worried face he quickly continues. “It’s good news. Great news! But it’s not something we want the town knowing,” he tilts his head to the gossipy townspeople.

Allison nods in understanding. “He thinks I’m joining only because of Scott. But I’m not.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I love Scott with my whole heart. I breathe for him. But I also want to make sure my friends are safe too. I want to help.”

Stiles can understand that need. Hell, that’s what drove him to be a member of the pack too. “You and Scott need to know exactly where you stand in your relationship before you join. We can’t handle having to choosing between you two once you’re in. It’s different. I’m not saying know your whole future, just no high school asshat shit.” 

He’s trying to get a laugh, lighten the mood; only it makes Allison bristle a little. “Scott and I are soul mates. We’re perfect for each other, and would never hurt the other.”

At Allison’s look of hurt, Stiles knows he failed to stop the skepticism from showing on his face. He wants to defend himself – the pair has proven that they can hurt each other – but their food is placed in front of them. The pancakes look great but Stiles is suddenly a little less hungry. There’s no need to waste food though, so he pours maple syrup on his stack and begins to eat.

It’s awkward for a while, but nobody can resist the Stilinski charm and soon Allison is laughing at his jokes – whether they’re genuine or pity, Stiles isn’t sure. But whatever, it counts. They table any pack business discussion once Allison promises to come to the house sometime next week. Stiles knows he has to tell her about the baby, but he’s not ready. He’ll do it soon though. He has to.

It’s getting dark, probably about 5:30 (damn winter months!), by the time they finish their meal. They hug just outside the café’s doors and Stiles watches as Allison gets into her SUV and drives away. He hums as he walks to his jeep a block away thinking _that didn’t go so bad_.

He takes a shortcut through an alley which proves to be a mistake. Because while Stiles doesn’t see the bat, he sure as hell feels it slam against his temple. He crumples to the pavement before he can glimpse his attacker. But he hears an humph of exhaustion as he’s lifted by the shoulders and dragged to an idle car. He wants to scream, to fight back, to do something but his body decides blacking out is the best choice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The second Stiles’ body reboots, he knows the where, the who and the what. The only remaining question is the why. Of all the times he’s been kidnapped (and he tries really hard to keep that number under five per year), only one of them has left him with a permanent smear to his conscious: the first one.

The Argent’s basement hasn’t changed. Well, maybe it’s a little dirtier, but the walls are still the same bland color, the floor is still cold and hard beneath him, there’s still left-over blood stains from tortured werewolves. Yeah, Stiles knows this place pretty well. It’s been a while since he’s had an “Argent Basement” nightmare, but they’ll be back before the week’s end.

His wrists and ankles are zip-tied together, arms in front of him. Seriously Chris, this is amateur shit. His head is pounding and he feels itchy, crusty blood near his left ear. Stiles knows he only has a short window before Chris will start the beating for information session. Yeah, this definitely has to be an information gathering kidnapping. Guess that’s the why. It’s too much of a coincidence that the day after Allison tells her father that she’s joining the local werewolf pack, that one of its members gets grabbed for it to be anything else.

He probably thinks the pack is vulnerable (they will be) and is trying to take advantage. The asshole.

There’s literally only a nearby metal folding chair in the basement with him. Well, that and an overhead light that is thankfully on. But it doesn’t matter, Stiles knows how to bust zip ties. A little bit of stomach pain is better than getting punched in the face. Trying to keep most of his back on the floor, Stiles lines his wrist to match his hip bones, raises his arms and is about to slam them downward when the basement door opens.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” a sickenly sweet feminine voice says. “Otherwise I have to knock you out again.”

For a second, Stiles is terrified that Kate has come back from the dead but he relaxes slightly as Allison walks into the room. Then he’s confused as fuck because she’s wearing a tank top, cargo pants and steel toe boots. Hours (hopefully not days) ago she was in her teacher’s outfit – button down shirt and flowery skirt. What the hell happened?

“I know you’re confused,” She begins monologue-ing and Stiles is certain something supernatural is happening. Fuck his life! “You think you’re so smart, Stiles,” spitting his name out. “But you don’t know what’s best for this pack. Not like Scott does.”

Okay, that makes about no sense. If Stiles is going to solve this, he’s going to need more clues. 

Allison approaches and when she’s five feet away, she pulls a blade out of her boot. “If you promise to behavior, I’ll cut your ties.” Her eyes are gleaming and it’s so Allison that Stiles rules out shape-shifter and body-snatcher.

“Okay,” he says raising his wrists. She grabs his arm and hauls him up with a breath. 

Whatever it is, it’s not super strong. That eliminates about half of what Stiles was thinking. She rough houses him into the seat, no surprises there, and yanks his hands in front of him. A fast swipe cuts the bindings but also nicks him. Allison ignores the blood, almost like she didn’t even see it. That’s another half of potentials crossed out. Stiles’ list is getting small but he’s more confused now. Not good.

“You’re not going to vote for me,” her tone icy. “You’re trying to stop me from being with Scott.” 

What the fuck does Scott have to do with this?!

She turns slightly and that when Stiles sees a golden light shimmering out of her back, right under her shoulder blade. That wasn’t there this afternoon. Or was it? He squints at it and suddenly everything makes sense. The unusually bright purple sunset two weeks ago, her screaming matches with Scott, her unyielding devotion to him now. 

“Allison?” He asks tentatively. This might not be so bad. “Do you remember how we found a cupid in the preserve? Did you run into Karl?”

She eyes him cautiously. “After I kill you, I’ll frame Derek. Scott will become alpha and we’ll be together forever.”

Okay. It’s bad. Real bad. Stiles can’t take Allison in a fight. He’s good, but she’s better. But she seems off. He’ll be able to get one good hit in, maybe two. He’ll have to make them count. A plan starts to form. “You’re right,” he has to distract her. “I wasn’t going to vote for you.” She growls. “But you’ve proven that you love Scott. Why else would you kidnap me? Where’s your dad?”

Allison laughs and it’s cruel and makes Stiles heart shutter. She passes the knife from hand to hand, testing the weight. “He’s not here. Don’t try screaming for help.”

There goes that plan. She takes the last couple of steps forward and brings her arm up. If he doesn’t do something now, Stiles is dead. In a last minute effort, he looks past her into the empty room and screams, “Scott buddy! It’s so good to see you!”

Allison whips around, “Scott!” She says hopefully, lovingly. 

This is Stiles’ only shot. He jumps out of the chair, tackling her down, making the blade go flying. Before she can react, he brings his elbows together and thumps the back of her head. Hard. She groans, so he does it once more. That shuts her open.

Stiles is breathing hard and he can feel himself on the verge of a panic attack. He tries to remember everything he learned about cupids, their arrows and cures. But all he can hear is Deaton’s words saying that death is the only option. No. He isn’t going to let this be the end of Allison. Not when love is supposed to save people.

He exhales and closes he’s eyes. It feels impossible, but Stiles stills his body and mind, searching for that little fireball that he’s been denying. Deaton said that he’s a spark – limited magic. Not enough to do spells but enough to change the things he touches. He just needs to will it.

Another exhale and there it is. He imagines a tiny match stick, red-orange flame burning brightly in a blackened room. The only light. Another release of breathe and there he is holding the matchstick. He visualizes the flame coating his hand, feels the power shift in his body to flood to his right hand. He snaps his eyes open, and using his that hand grasps the arrow’s shaft and heaves. 

It burns and he can’t breathe. The arrow may be gold but it feels like cactus needles and weighs a life’s worth. He feels his fingers loosely and he screams, “No! No! NO!”

Tightening his whole body, Stiles wills the arrow out and pulls again. He feels, more than sees, the arrow slide out of Allison. She cries out in pain when it’s completely out, her body shudders once then she’s still. Stiles worries she died, but he hears shallow breathing and it’s enough of a distraction that his spark blows out. He looks down and everything becomes purple. 

He’s vision clears and suddenly he’s seeing Allison, really seeing her. She’s still on her stomach, but all he needs is to be near her to know he loves her. Memories of her swarm his mind, clouding his vision but it is okay because he has her now. He lets his thoughts center on the literal perfection under him. He rolls her over and his breathe catches. 

Her pale, smooth skin matches his bone white skin perfectly. Her eyes are loving, honest and the perfect shade of chocolate brown. Her lips are soft pink, delicate and he knows they’ll be silky like velvet. He can’t believe he ever thought he laugh was ugly, when he realizes that it’s like bells chiming. He eyes her petite breasts and knows that he was mistaken when he said Erica’s were better. The she-wolf’s are disgustingly large, but he’ll be able to cup his Allison’s chest easily. He can finally understand why Scott always comes back to her.

Suddenly the idea of that beast touching the love of his life invades Stiles’ mind. He pictures that abomination kissing her, caressing her, knowing her violently because that filth could never be as soft, gentle, kind like Stiles will be. He’ll have to kill Scott. It’s the only option. 

As he plans it, he realizes the rest of the pack will seek vengeance. They’ll try to separate them – take his world away. The situation gives him pause for a moment. He’ll have to kill them all at the same time. Looking around, the perfect idea comes to mind. Thank Venus the Argents are hunters! He’ll take a play out of Kate’s book: mountain ash and fire. It’s perfect. They’ll be trapped in the Hale House as it burns around them. That’ll save Allison and him from the brutes.

He remembers Lydia is still human, but a bullet to the head will end her. The Argents have that too. His soul mate is so resourceful. 

Stiles then lets his psyche wonder to what they’ll do after they eradicate the creatures. They’ll get married, buy a house and have kids. The notion of Allison pregnant sends a jolt through his body. He looks down and his vision begins to clear a little, until a plum haze billows around him. He pictures Allison, with her belly swollen with his baby, smiling, proud to carry his child. 

He hears puking and a gruff voice saying, “Not a word.” Thoughts of stubble, muscles and sad hazel eyes bombard him. Stiles starts swaying and a lilac tinted world filled with a bubbly Allison combats a vibrantly colored world of a man yelling at Stiles. A man who pushes Stiles, throws Stiles around, hates Stiles. A man whose body keeps Stiles warm in a smelly box of water for hours as hissing fills the air. A man with claws that shield Stiles, saves Stiles, loves Stiles. A man with a golden hand who picks up a tiny version of himself and smiles so brightly it outshines the sun. 

A deafening crack pierces through Stiles’ mental war. He’s body is exhausted but Stiles looks down to see a gold arrow spilt in two. He knows that should be important but all he can think is that he needs help. So he does what he always does when he’s in a foreign place and needs saving. He leans back, and with the last of his strength he howls loud and long before blackness consumes him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles wakes cover in something soft and warm. His mind screams the image of the Argent’s basement and says the only thing that could be that soft and warm is blood. Either his or whatever pack member they’ve killed. He springs up, flings his eyes open and takes in the room.

Hard wooden walls, one large window on the right of the bed he’s laying in; an open door leading into a dark room, a closed one leading into the house. There’s an empty clothes basket nestled near a full bookcase, bedside dressers on both sides of the bed. The one near him has a phone with a post-it note covering it. Stiles has awoken in this room for the past two years. It was just a nightmare. 

He laughs, been a while since the Argent Torture House made an appearance. He thought he was finally over it. Oh well. 

He grabs his phone and reads the note. Derek’s deceptively soft, loopy handwriting tells him to come downstairs to talk. Stiles wonders what about, probably something baby related. He turns his phone on and checks his messages. Four missed calls from Derek and two from Scott. One text from Allison.

He opens it and reads _I’m sorry_. He snaps his neck back as the memories rush to the fore front of his thoughts. It wasn’t a nightmare. Allison got attacked, she tried to kill him, he fell in love with her. Shit! He breathes and knows with every fiber that he loves Derek, not the huntress. He even says it out loud to calm himself. “I love Derek.”

Strangely, it works. He chucks the blankets off, glad to discover he’s in pajama pants and heads downstairs. Scott is sitting on the couch, Erica holding him close. Derek’s claws are extended but he has one palm on the wolf’s shoulder. They all snap their necks at him when he descends the stairs. It takes one look to know that Scott has been crying.

Stiles braces himself before a freight train of emotional hurt werewolf can fly into him. Scott wails and crushes into Stiles, dripping snot and fresh tears on his skin. 

“She left,” Erica says, voice small and sad.

Stiles knows that Allison is gone for good now. If he can remember everything, she probably can too. He wants to be angry, wants to travel to the ends of the world and punish the woman who repeatedly destroys his best friend. One look at Derek says that the alpha wants her blood just as much as Stiles. But Erica places a very human hand on Derek’s lower belly and their both know they can’t leave. They have a future growing here and it sucks but Allison won’t be a part of it. She’s lost her chance at that. 

Stiles wraps one arm around Scott’s chest and motions for Derek and Erica to join them. They all huddle close until Danny, Jackson and Lydia come home. They have take out, and without prompt place the bags on the table and unite in the group hug. All that’s missing is Boyd and Isaac.

The sun sets and Scott stops crying, but doesn’t loosen his hold yet. He will, just not yet. Stiles closes his eyes and lets his love for his best friend soothe as best as possible. Tomorrow will be hell for them, but right now, he focuses on healing. It’s all they can do.

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. A mpreg story. Find me on [ tumblr ](http://itendswithz.tumblr.com/) for snippets and other random fun things.


End file.
